The Order of the Badger
by LingeringLuminosity
Summary: Before the war, shop assistant Verity thought she wasn't a hero. That she would never be betrayed, that she was would never ruin her friendship with the Weasleys over a messy love affair. She thought she would never loose everything. She thought wrong.
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

**_This story begins with an ending_. **

_At first they were defiant. While the Dementors patrolled outside of the cells, she tried to think about happy memories. __At first she knew that at least he was alive out there somewhere and that they would be saved. It was only a matter of time._

_But the days passed and nobody came. _

_Chained to the stone walls they all spoke of rescue- great wizards, the chosen one, the Order. But she had seen good people try to fight He Who Must Not Be Named, she had seen good people fail and she had seen good people die. _

_So many good people. _

_The dead spoke to her in the night. There was cracked blood in between her finger nails and her ribs started to jut uncomfortably from beneath her skin as the days became weeks._

_In the end she stopped believing that anyone would come._

_The only thing to do now was pray that they wouldn't bury her within the prison walls, that they would throw her body out to sea instead and let her find her own way home. It was a small thing to hope for and the only hope she had left. _

_Until finally, out of the darkness, they came for her. _

_They tapped their wands viciously against her cell bars and it was the first time she'd seen light in weeks. The smell of human sweat and urine was thick in the cells- the Dementors had reduced them to little more than dogs- and she gasped as the fresh air streamed in._

"_Up," they barked, grasped her by the under arms and pulled her to her feet. Shaking, she could barely make them out. A voice in the back of her mind told her to kick at a shin, to spit in someone's eye. She found she didn't have the strength. _

_She was unchained, gasped as heavy metal bonds which had melded to wounds in her skin were removed. She started to bleed all over again. _

_ "Walk," they said. But she couldn't. They didn't care and she didn't have a choice. _

_Feeling the tip of a wand prickle at the base of her neck she heard a gruff voice mumble 'Imperio' into her ear. At once she felt her back straighten and the pain in her limbs subside. Her face did not sting as it always did and the pangs of hunger all but disappeared. "Walk, they said again._

_ And without fear or worry she did. _

_Walking outside of her cell, she watched her neighbors do the same. _

_ More than a hundred emaciated, battered and bloody figures shambled through the bleak stone corridors to the centre courtyard where the dead prisoners were buried. She searched among the bedraggled masses for her friend, the one she'd been arrested with- but each hollowed out face looked the same. _

"_Stop," they said and in the centre courtyard the prisoners did. She noticed that there were less human guards than usual (and less dementors too) and those that were seemed more agitated, afraid even. _

_They were more dangerous to the prisoners afraid._

_Most of them had guessed what was coming. _

_Await the command._

_ When they had been arrested, or on their admittance to Azkaban each of the assembled had watched the Death Eaters who guarded the island prison snap their wand in two. Because of this, some prisoners had spades, some had large shovels and others had gardening trowels. _

_She knew what the command would be. _

"_Dig!" they shouted into the crowd. And under the curse the prisoners were all to happy to oblige. She didn't fight it; there wouldn't be much point. _

_Quietly, along with the rest of them, she dropped to her knees and began to dig her own grave. _


	2. Summer's End

**The Order of the Badger**

**Property of J.K Rowling. Note: This charts the view of a (very) minor character throughout Voldemort's second rise to power and some of the small rebellions I believe that members of the wizarding world not necessarily in the order or big damn heroes like Harry and his friends but by no means the bad guys might have taken. Verity's story takes place over a period of time spanning approximately both book six and book seven, I hope you like it :)**

* * *

**PART I-GOING TO THE DOGS**

**Chapter one- Summer's End. (September 1996)**

The muggle police found her mother first. She'd been dead for about seven hours before the aurors got wind of the situation and contacted her father.

It had all been too easy to pretend that nothing was happening. For the longest time Verity been able to surround herself with a warm duvet of denial. It was her job to keep on pretending there was something to laugh at. To keep calm and carry on like they said.

That September the nights were short and warm, Verity let Simon drag her out to muggle pubs. They'd sit outside all evening, drawing attention to themselves with the purple smoke wafting from their charmed cigarettes and drink too much. Verity dragged herself into work, still wearing last night's makeup and refused any 'hangover cure' that Fred or George offered her because not being the human tester for the next vomit inducing, pimple growing, hair loss tablet was written in her contract. She'd made Fred change it to include that clause after her first shift.

It was just lucky for the twins that her eyebrows had grown back so quickly, otherwise she would have asked for a big pay rise.

It felt like the summer would last forever; Verity would have given anything for nothing to change. Dad relayed the gossip that he picked up from around the offices at the Daily Prophet, with a frown on his face and there was a new minister for magic but all the bad news seemed so far away. Her oldest sister, Connie, would sigh when she saw Verity in her work uniform and say that she was going to have to get a proper job soon- because no one could possibly spend their entire life working in a joke shop but Verity felt like she could laugh for forever.

She was supposed to be meeting Simon in an hour. A glass of cider was full on her dressing table, she skimmed lip gloss around her mouth and downstairs an auror was telling her father that her mother was dead.

Walking downstairs, Verity knew something was wrong. Everything looked the same of course; the hall was decorated with an array of quidditch memorabilia that dad had picked up over the years, and pictures of the four Abbott children waved cheerfully at them. Normal.

And yet the air was heavy with unease, and the murmuring voices just beyond the closed door of the sitting room raised the hairs on the back of her neck. Pushing the door open, Verity poked her head through.

Her dad was sat hunched in the chair. All Verity could see was the top of his dirty blonde head, balding slightly around the crown and speckled with grey in a few places. His shoulders were broad from his quidditch playing days and he had always been somewhat statuesque, especially in comparison to Verity's mother who was little and very slight.

Verity had inherited her father's height and freakishly large feet- he was a giant throughout her childhood, strong and clever and funny but here in the living room for the first time, her father looked small. Small and old and fallible.

"Dad?" she pipped, "Everything okay in here?"

Dad didn't look at her, just at the stiff woman.

"I'm afraid not. Miss Abbott, I'm sorry."

"Sorry for what? Dad didn't get some bad news about the Montrose Magpies did he?"

The stiff woman just exchanged a glance with Dad and took a deep breath. "Miss Abbott, earlier this morning- your mother was found. Healers were called to attend to her but it was too late, she was pronounced dead at the scene- we believe it was the killing curse."

Dad made a noise that sounded like he was cracking. Verity felt something swirling in her stomach.

"What?" she whispered. This had to be a joke too, like everything was. Her mother was at work, she reported on amusing light news segments, like a plimpie who had to wear little boots in the winter and no one wanted to kill her. "No," said Verity shaking her head, as though saying so made it true.

"Our best aurors are continuing the investigation, but on the surface of it it seems likely that Death Eaters were-"

The stiff woman went on but Verity could hardly follow what she said, finding herself drifting in and out of keeping track of her words. They needed to be told; Brooks and Connie- and Hannah, just back at school.

Simon was going to be waiting for her too, they were going to walk to the pub together.

"Not to mention the presence of the Dark Mark. Now, Mr Abbott as I was saying- for the safety of your family it's important for us to understand why your wife was a target. Was she of…shall we say, non magical descent? A muggleborn, if you will."

Dad didn't say anything, just stared blankly at his hands. The stiff woman looked to Verity who felt herself sway a little on the spot.

"That's right," said Verity quietly, "My grandparents are muggles yeah."

"We got through it," said Dad suddenly in a broken voice. "The last time when he, You Know Who, started killing muggleborns. The children were so young, Hannah was just a baby and we didn't know what to do- I was so scared for Joy, didn't sleep at night, every time something creaked or the door rang I thought that they were coming for us but together we made it. We got through and we didn't have to worry anymore."

Verity fell into the sofa and gripped at the material. She had been too young to really remember what it was like when you know who had been around the first time but she knew the stories. All the same, it hadn't felt real before now. It had just felt like another segment on the news for other people's parents and other people like Harry Potter the boy who lived to worry about.

It wasn't for something for Verity Abbott, who's most difficult challenge in life was separating horny pygmy puffs when they got too rowdy, to be concerned with.

The auror woman nodded and gave them the smallest of sympathetic smiles, "We're going to do our best to make this right. I truly am sorry."

Verity feltDdad grip her arm, for whose comfort she couldn't really be sure but she placed her hand on top of his all the same. The auror stepped into the fire place and dropped a handful of floo powder. Watching as she went, Verity felt the tears finally prick her eyes.

The silence filled the room and Verity's eyes went to the mantle, to Mum and Dad's wedding photograph.

What was supposed to happen now? Verity didn't know what to say or do. She just picked at her nails and put her thumb nail into her mouth the way she used to do when she was a child.

Constance. She needed her big sister; practical, sensible Connie would know what to do. Surely.

"I'm going to talk to Connie," said Verity slowly slipping onto the floor to talk through the fire on her hands and knees. "We need to tell her." Connie and Brooks, family friends, nanna and grandpa they all needed to be told and Verity didn't know the first place to start. And Hannah, poor Hannah who would be sitting in the Hufflepuff Common room, smiling and laughing with her friends totally unaware of what was happening.

Verity used the back of her hand to wipe the lip gloss from her mouth.

* * *

Connie was brilliant as always. She brewed cups of tea, thick with milk and laced with heaped tablespoons of sugar when Verity started shaking. Stepping in and out of the fire place at ten minute intervals each time she took over the heady task of organising everyone. Verity had no idea that a death took so much organising when she felt as though she could barely summon up the strength to lift her tea cup from its saucer. Connie's husband Brian sat across from Verity, not saying anything- just glancing at the ticking clock and waiting with her.

"You know, getting a hold of someone is so much easier the muggle way."

Verity stood up quickly but it was only the fire place. The head and shoulders of Simon rose from out of the grate and he was smiling. People still did that. There were still smiles and laughter even though her mother was dead.

"I waited for you, but I assumed you'd still be doing your hair or something. Can I come in?"

They'd met at Hogwarts, as nearly all couples did. Simon had been a year older, a Ravenclaw and to a silly, giggling seventeen year old Hufflepuff he'd been possibly the coolest boy alive. A muggleborn from a council estate in Croydon, he had a way of smiling, walking and wearing his clothes that Verity had never seen before and found fascinating. In turn, Simon had a kind of amused wonder at all things magical that Verity, brought up in the wizarding world had never had. Everything she found blasé was fascinating to Simon while muggle clubs and brightly coloured alcopops- the kind of things a muggle born mother wouldn't tell you about- had made Verity yelp in delight when he'd first shown them to her.

It had done nothing at seventeen to help Verity's childish crush that Simon was undeniably good looking. Very tall and black, he kept his hair cropped close to his head and wore an effortless smile most of the time that could be described as 'cocky' if you didn't know how secretly earnest he could be. A leftover from his muggle days on the estate, he had one eyebrow shaved in a stripe. When Verity had asked him what the point of that was, Simon had tried to explain the muggle concept of a 'chav' to her, but she hadn't really quite got it.

His somewhat coarse appearance was a slight juxtaposition to when he stuffed himself into his work robes, and he always stood out a mile from the rest of his colleagues. But Simon loved his office job, something to do with arithmancy though when you said 'unspeakable working for the department of mysteries', according to Simon, it sounded a lot more impressive than the actuality; sitting at a desk and staring intently at charts and numbers all day.

Verity shook her head, waves of blonde hair whipping against her face. "I can't, Si. It's Mum."

"Vez?"

She couldn't bring herself to say it so she said nothing. Luckily Brian spoke up. "Verity's Mum was found this evening. They say she was killed by death eaters."

There was heavy breathing from the fireplace as Simon said softly, "Oh, god Vez- I'm so sorry. I can come up, if you like, if you need me to."

Verity shook her head. "No…no, not right now, please. I just need some time…my family" she looked at the floor at the light brown tiling in the kitchen, "you understand?"

If he didn't, then he didn't say, just nodded slowly. "Okay, but don't forget…I'm here, yeah."

"I know. Thank you," she nodded, forcing a watery smile.

Allowing Simon to leave, swathed in flames, Verity leaned against the aga range in the kitchen and breathed a deep sigh, wrapping her arms around herself. It had been an unusually warm September but here in the kitchen she felt cold.

* * *

The longest night filtered slowly into the day without a hint of sleep. Dad was grey faced and desolate, while Connie's jaw was set and she fought off grief with her need to be doing something, anything at all times. Brooks had been told, but he'd wanted to stay alone in his grief while Verity didn't think she could have bared that- it was far easier to watch Connie and Dad then it was to dwell.

Connie and Dad looked at each other finally sometime in the morning and said. "We have to tell Hannah." The baby of the family, they had all wanted to protect her from this, give her one night's piece, and one last breakfast but now it was time.

Connie and dad disappeared through the fireplace and Brian said he was going out to get food for lunch leaving Verity alone.

She thought about going to see Simon, but he would be at work by now. It occurred to her that she would be expected with the twins too, that they had a crate of fever fudge to unpack along with the rest of it- the jokes, the laughter. Those slogans 'u-no-poo' would be emblazoned on the doors. Like them, she'd thought it was funny to turn people's fear into something humorous. Now, though, u-no-poo didn't seem quite so amusing any more.

The grate, once again, filled with flames.

Her little sister, blonde and just sixteen fell into her arms and started to sob, which of course got Verity going too. How long they stood in the kitchen sobbing and clutching at each other, Verity couldn't say but when she pulled away Hannah's face was set, determined and angry.

"They won't get away with this," said Hannah and Verity let her, though quite what a sixteen year old Hufflepuff prefect could do was questionable. "I won't let them."

So Verity just nodded and looked over at her father, his face more distraught than ever.

"It's really started now Dad, hasn't it? There really is a war going on."

If she was expecting comfort then she wasn't going to get it from her father. Dad fell heavily into his chair and Verity thought she knew what Dad was thinking. There wasn't going to be a war. Because war suggested both sides fighting, but how could you fight You Know Who? What there was going on was nothing short of a massacre.

And for Verity, it started one night in September. But it was far from over.


	3. Fried Toads

**Chapter two- Fried Toads (October 1996)**

"Are you sure you want to do this?" asked Hannah, leaning on the side of the doorframe and looking into the kitchen.

Verity picked up the firewiskey bottle and tucked it under her arm.

"Of course I don't," said Verity. "But one of us had to clean the kitchen at some point. I think there's something sentient living in the sink; my money's on a kappa. "

She wasn't wrong about the state of the kitchen, or the house in general really. Without Joy Abbott the family home had seen a huge drop in standards; dirty dishes piled in the sink, still encrusted with the remnants of a dinner eaten merlin only knew how many evenings ago. On the floor were smears of yellowy scrambled eggs and pasta sauce, broken glass from the bottles of booze shattered and pooling around the edges of the room while the bin in the corner sat overflowing.

There was a scent of sticky stale beer and old cigarette in the room while glasses and cups and plant pots had all been used as ash trays. Mum had always hated Dad smoking in the house, but now she was gone what point was there in making the effort?

It seemed to be Dad's philosophy these days and Verity and Hannah had watched him disintegrate along with the home Joy Abbott had once been so proud of.

A greasy glob of bacon rind was left on one of the old plates Verity cleared from the breakfast table and she picked it up, holding it between thumb and forefinger in front of the sink. "You always wanted a pet, Hans," she made a clicking noise between her teeth as if to call a dog, "What should we name him? Kevin the Kappa?"

Hannah smiled weakly, a tired little thing but it was nonetheless a blessing after the long months of her sister appearing from time to time with red eyes, chewing her lip nervously and glancing at the door. "I meant about work. Are you ready to go back?"

Verity nodded emphatically, "Gods yeah, of course. It'll be nice to have something to do for a change. Totally ready. I am the very image of readiness." She held out her arms and brushed down her robes, hoping that her smile didn't waver, that she didn't betray to Hannah that all she was hoping for was that she made it through today.

And Hannah was back to frowning again, with some far off thought that made Verity pause and set down the bottles of booze. At times like this, Verity wished she had taken occulemency or something else that was clever and would let her read her little sister's mind.

"Actually," she glanced at her watch. "I reckon I got time for a cup of tea. You want one?"

"You'll be late for your first day back."

"Well, it'll be like I never left then. Besides, I'm bereaved; bosses are meant to be lenient in these circumstances. I think I might get away with sloping off early for my lunch break and everything."

Hannah remained stony faced as she slid onto a chair at the table. Putting the kettle to boil, Verity heaped teaspoon upon teaspoon of sugar into the tea.

"You're lucky you know," said Hannah finally, picking at congealed fat stuck in the cracks formed on the wooden table. "Dad still won't let me go back to school. I'm not even sure if he ever will."

"He's just worried, Hans is all. He wants us close and I don't blame him. I'm sure when this is all over…"

"Assuming it's _ever_ going to be over."

"When this is all over," Verity repeated firmly, "You'll go back, and it'll all be fine. But for now I _need_ you, if nothing else. Can you imagine me and Dad left on our own right now? We all know that I'm Ms. Responsibility- I think there'd be more than just Kappas in the sink if you went back to Hogwarts."

As a fellow Hufflepuff, Verity knew that it was a dirty trick to play the family loyalty card, but she really did mean it. The family needed to stay together, for Dad's sake. He could hardly button his shirts in the morning, and perhaps it was for slightly selfish reasons that Verity wanted to keep her too. She couldn't bear being left alone with Dad and his moping. Hannah didn't say anything, but it was clear that while the subject of returning to school was still alive and well in her mind, she probably wasn't going to push it much further.

"I'm worried about him," said Hannah biting on her lip and looking up at the ceiling. Poor Hannah, she was preaching to the choir.

"He's finally working again though," said Verity, "That's something. I think he's done something for the sport's pages in today's prophet- I'll pick up one after work today, I'm sure he's back to his old quidditch mad self now he's back to writing."

"I suppose," said Hannah thoughtfully. "But do you really think it would be that bad if I went back?"

"Nah, I'm probably exaggerating- but I am desperate to keep you. Besides, from what I hear you had a lucky escape. I can't believe they finally made Snape defence against the dark arts teacher."

"I know, poor Ernie's been owling me with nothing but a list of complaints about him," Hannah looked sadly at her hands. "I miss my friends. I miss herbology classes, I even miss getting things wrong in lessons all the time."

Sipping her tea, Verity knew that she was definitely going to be late but she didn't drink any faster, just got comfortable in her chair and listened to her sister.

"If he thinks though, that I'm just going to sit around doing nothing…" Hannah threatened ominously, but Verity thought nothing of it really, deciding that her little sister meant getting a job in a café while the aurors and the ministry of magic dealt with the problems of death eaters and you know who.

"I like having you around, you know," said Verity after a while. They exchanged a smile and Hannah got up, to rinse out her mug and to inspect the plant pots lining the window sill.

"I like being around, for the most part. But Vez?"

"Mmm?"

"I love you, but please don't put out any more cigarettes in my flitterbloom.

* * *

In the old days, before what had happened to her mother, Verity would charge in with her rumpled uniform and get a 'Verity, what time do you call this? Let me guess, stuck in the floo network? Spent the last twenty minutes up a chimney?" and the joking threat of a verbal warning which never really amounted to anything but today she just got a smile and a wave.

"Mr. Weasley, Mr. Weasley," said Verity with a nod, shoving her cloak and her lunch in the staffroom. She hoped her demeanour suggested, rightly, that she didn't want to talk about why she had been away. But she didn't have to worry about that, not here. Here, you checked your shit and all your serious problems at the door- right when you saw the U-No-Poo signs and today, Verity was especially grateful for it.

"I missed that," said Fred with a grin. "Mr Weasley. Always made us sound so respectable-"

"Masterful, even," added George. "The new employees aren't nearly so reverent."

"Do you want me to break them in for you?" asked Verity, "Tell them about how you torture lazy staff with tablets that… I don't know… make them develop really pungent body odour, or something?"

"We never did that did we?"

"Not a bad idea though."

Verity shook her head and smoothed down her robes, yet again. They had always fit like a glove before but apparently grieving had made her a little wide around the middle.

Stepping onto the shop floor for what felt like the first time in ages. She tried to remember how it had been when she'd first applied for the job, stepping inside and recalling spending her pocket money in Zonko's in Hogsmeade, all the bright colours and the newest delight that the Weasley twins had come up with, how easy it had been to sell all these products, to get excited in front of a customer and really genuinely feel it. U-No-Poo was still emblazoned on the front of the shop, the parody of those god awful leaflets the ministry had sent out. Like a pamphlet was going to save anyone's life.

Her fingers were skating over the banner when she felt someone behind her.

"We're probably going to change those soon," said George, it had to be George from the tone and the expression- Verity prided herself on getting to know the subtle nuances of her identical twin employers quickly though she did still get it wrong fairly often. However, the G in gold lettering on his breast pocket was a nice clue.

"It's still funny, though," said Verity, forcing a smile like she didn't have a care in the world. "After all, constipation is a timeless concept. Not literally…that would be horrible, but you know what I mean."

"Ah, but – my young apprentice-the best joke is one that isn't repeated too often. You always have to leave them wanting more."

"Mmm," said Verity idly, letting the 'young apprentice' thing slide considering she was actually a full school year older than the twins and looking out at the streets of Diagon Alley. Empty, practically.

"Come on, me and Fred will show you what new products we have. Time is money."

"Of course, Mr. Weasley," smiled Verity. "Can't let those newbies show me up."

"You keep saying Mr. Weasley like that and I think you'll be back on top in no time."

"And then you'll show me what a mess the stock room got into and I'll realize that all this flattery was for ulterior motives, sir."

"Well yes, Verity, there is a slight possibility of that."

* * *

Time keeping and general untidiness aside, Verity took pride in being a good employee. On the sales front, and when it came to deciphering Fred and George's handwriting on order forms and stocklists (it was clearly her ancient runes experience coming through, and everyone had claimed that it was a useless subject- well, Verity had showed them) no one was her match and she allowed herself to fall back into the old routine.

"Perfect stocking filler if you're buying for small children," continued Verity holding up a set of muggle card games while serving a middle aged, asian witch. "Christmas is just around the corner."

"Oh my, I know, where does the time go?" smiled the witch. "Oh go on, I have a few nephews and nieces that'll want some bits and bobs. May I have three please?"

"Of course," smiled Verity ,popping the items in question into the hand basket slung over her arm. "I'll have to show you our new defensive range. It's been really popular and in the current climate…well, you can't put a price on safety."

Verity's eyes wandered for a moment up to the balcony on the second floor looking over the shop, she caught George's eye, probably watching to see how Verity was coping, she thought for a moment rather bitterly. Well, she wasn't going to burst into tears while serving a customer, so she could do without the supervision.

"So, we've got Peruvian darkness powder for a quick getaway…"

Over George's shoulder, Fred peered down and grinned. He used his eyes to indicate to the customer and pointed at the ceiling, before making a 'money' gesture, rubbing his thumb and forefinger together. Verity just rolled her eyes with a half sort of chuckle, mouthing 'piss off' to him before returning to the customer before the little asian witch noticed.

Putting all of the woman's items through the till, it was then that Verity heard it. A sharp, short _thud _against the window. Her heart leapt in her throat as she recalled dark alley ways and dark marks and her mother's limp abandoned body. But when she looked up, the pounding in her chest slowly filtered away into nothing- in fact she let out a small, sharp bark of laughter and had to apologize to the witch she was serving.

Two faces were pressed up against the glass, their facial features smushed comically like wide mouthed frogs. They belonged to two of her very best friends, fellow Hufflepuffs and general nuisances- get any group of them together and it was fairly likely that they'd all relapse to about the age of eleven.

The taller of the two, Bryn Stebbins had his usually broken looking nose smeared against the glass and when he pulled away, he waved manically at Verity. From the looks of things, he still seemed intent on growing that moustache he kept threatening everyone with, though it had grown thankfully a bit thicker and darker than the last time Verity had seen him. Next to him, having left a smear of heavy foundation and lipgloss on the glass was Justine Munch, a smartly dressed girl with dark hair neatly styled on top her head. When she smiled, you could quite clearly see one dead, grey snaggled tooth at the front of her mouth.

If Justine was around, then her boyfriend would be too and sure enough when Bryn and Justine walked through the doors, the appropriately named Earnest was trailing behind with a copy of the daily prophet tucked under his arm- looking shabbier than usual, if that was even possible with his scruffy beard, dirty nails and battered old clothes. Unlike the other two Hufflepuffs, he was of a more serious ilk- with big baleful eyes, very little in the way of a sense of humour and a fondness for sappy poetry- he made for an odd match with Justine but they were equally devoted to each other so that at least won Earnest Verity's seal of approval.

"Hallo, you," Bryn said, folding Verity into a hug while the customer gathered up her bags.

"What're you doing here?"

"Oh," shrugged Justine, "I was on my lunch break, meeting Earnest and I ran into Bryn who was-"

"I was stopping for one of those pasties round the corner. Let's just say after last night, I'd built up quite a hunger. And after this morning too, come to think of it," interrupted Bryn proudly. "I _love_ Muggle girls."

"Nice," grinned Verity, taking stock of his rumpled muggle shirt.

"So we decided we'd pop in, since it's your first day back and everything," Justine put her fingers on the counter and looked at her with wide eyes. "How _are _you?" she said very softly.

"Covered in bites," said Verity, showing her fingers. "I'm not even going to _ask_ Fred and George how a fanged gerbil got in the bloody stockroom."

Justine sighed and her face fell, "Oh, Vez," she said sadly, thrusting her arms around her friend's middle- still shorter than Verity by a good few inches despite the heels she wore and all that hair stacked on top of her head.

"Jeez, it's just a gerbil… I'm alright."

Verity pulled a startled face at Brynn who just shrugged as if to say 'I don't know, just go with it', while Earnest was glancing moodily at the pygmy puffs.

Hugging tightly, Verity went with it as suggested but she pulled away to glance up over the shop- really, she shouldn't be slacking off and talking to her friends while there were customers. "I'm supposed to be meeting Simon after work- for a drink in the Leaky Cauldron. Would you come? "

Earnest was about to say something that suggested the negative, but Justine spoke for him- "Yes, definitely. We'd love to." Earnest looked daggers at Justine and grabbed her arm as though wanting to speak to her privately, but Justine ignored him. "We'll talk properly tonight, yes? Oh, Verity- I'm so happy; you look so…_well._"

Presumably, she'd expected Verity to have gone mad with grief- coming into work with a shaved head and wearing a bin bag.

"I've been eating a lot of raw eggs recently" said Verity, scratching the back of her head. "That's not even a joke- dad _can't_ cook. I suppose salmonella must be good for the complexion. " Speaking of Dad, it occurred to Verity that she still hadn't read today's prophet- which contained her father's first quidditch article since becoming a widower. She noticed properly the prophet under Earnest's arm and held out for it.

"Can I have a look at that?" asked Verity nodding at the paper.

Earnest stiffened up and deferred automatically to Justine who also looked uncomfortable. Even Bryn, who was usually unflappable couldn't quite bring himself to look Verity in the eye.

"What?" frowned Verity looking at them closely, "Can I?"

"Uhhh."

"Look, we really need to go," said Justine, looping her arm around Earnest's. "My lunch break is almost over."

"Yeah and I haven't fed my cat yet, you know how she-"

"Could you please explain, what's going on," sighed Verity. "No bollocks, please."

Justine sighed and slipped the paper out from underneath her arms, "You seemed to be doing well- I guess I didn't want to ruin it." She unfurled the Daily Prophet and held it out to Verity.

AUROR'S STILL ON THE HUNT FOR ESCAPED DEATH EATERS- WILD GOOSE CHASE, SAYS MINISTRY OFFICAL. MORE FATALITIES CONFIRMED.

Verity stared down at the paper and traced the photograph of a snarling death eater, thinking that this must be what it was like to actually be able to capture evil in an image. Anyone of these people could have killed her mum, just lifted up their wand and charmed all of the life out of her, before leaving her to die.

"You can't hide this from me forever," said Verity blankly looking down at the picture. _More fatalities_, the paper said. Not just her Mum, but other people's Mums. And there was nothing she could do about it.

"No offense guys- but I think I can handle reading a newspaper article. Just so you know, I haven't _broken_ or anything. But thanks for the vote of confidence."

"Oh Vez," said Justine sadly but Verity stopped her.

"Look, I really should get back to work and so should you. I'll see you tonight."

Far more subdued than they had been upon their entrance, Verity's fellow Hufflepuff's left their friend to it. Verity watched them go, stony faced and when they had gone she waited precisely twenty seconds before slumping onto the counter heavily.

"The Wednesday afternoon rush getting to you?"

Verity looked up and saw Fred, judging from the golden 'F' on his breast pocket, smiling at her. There was nothing called the Wednesday afternoon rush- the shop floor was pretty much empty now, especially since there were so very few passers by in Diagon alley to begin with and Verity knew she should have been re-stocking the shop while it was this quiet but well, she didn't quite feel up to it.

"Mr Weasley, may I have permission to lock myself in the stockroom, scream until I am sick and throw an array of breakables at the wall?"

Fred pretended to consider it, "Will you clean up after yourself?"

"I haven't decided yet."

"Well then, as part owner of this shop and your boss, I'm gonna have to rule out the planned melodramatics," he reached to a rack on the counter to a pack of what was labelled, 'Fried toads' but what were really just crisps, flavoured with smoky bacon and charmed to croak whenever they were bit into. "And, if you want to keep your job, you'll have a crisp."

"I thought we weren't supposed to eat the merchandise."

"That was to stop George eating pygmy puffs. And anyhow, I'll just take the packet out of your wages."

"Well then, I suppose I should enjoy the-" she looked at the pricing on the rack and pulled a face, "the _extortionately_ priced crisps, jeez Fred." They were good though and for a few moments the empty shop was filled with the twin sounds of chewing and croaking.

And then she looked down at the counter, to see that today's Daily Prophet was still there. It's bold headline flashing at her reminded Verity why she had wanted to lock herself in the stock room to begin with. She pushed the headlines in Fred's direction.

"More deaths," she sighed. "You seen today's paper?"

"I have," said Fred solemnly. "That crossword puzzle is a bastard."

"You know, before Mum…I don't think I would have felt like this. Well, I mean- I would have cared, it's awful. But honestly, what could I do? I'm helpless, just a Hufflepuff with an Acceptable in ancient runes and these," she tapped the paper, "they are just faceless names and statistics. But now Mum's gone I _hate_ it. More than you know who and the death eaters, even. I _hate_ being this helpless."

Fred was quiet and Verity wondered if she had perhaps said a bit too much. While she considered herself to enjoy a really good working relationship with her employers, would stretch it so far as to call them friends she would have never really placed them in the 'agony aunt role', if she needed to laugh then they were perfect. But Verity didn't much feel like laughing now, so she wasn't sure what she had wanted to achieve by that little outburst.

"You know," said Fred quietly. "You don't _have_ to be helpless."

"What?"

"Well, I mean—"

"Verity!"

Verity's head snapped up and saw George standing over the balustrade upstairs. "Mr Weasley?"

"Verity, could you restock the shield gloves- there's only two left on the shelf. I think we have a few boxes in the stockroom." He was talking to her, but George was looking pointedly at Fred. When Verity turned back to Fred, he wasn't looking anywhere- but it didn't look like he was about continue what he was saying.

Something smelt very fishy, and Verity wasn't just talking about the anchovy flavoured toothpaste.

"What about my lunch break?" asked Verity, because really she was keen for Fred to go on.

"Okay well take your break then, you can do it when you get back. I need to have a word with my brother."

Verity frowned further, but rolled up her packet of fried toads and pulled a cigarette box from beneath her robes. "Yes, sure- no problem, Mr Weasley."

George didn't smile this time when she called him Mr. Weasley but from the floor below, Verity sent him a look that she hope conveyed that her conversation with Fred definitely wasn't over yet.


	4. An Army of Two

**Chapter three- An Army of Two (October 1996)**

The evening wasn't a pleasant one, the last of the Indian Summer dying as October slipped into November. It had started to rain so the Hufflepuffs along with their honorary Ravenclaw took a place inside of the Leaky Cauldron next to the fire.

Sinking into a battered leather sofa, Verity watched Simon roll her a cigarette, her mind full of her disappointment that Fred had remained stubbornly tight lipped for the rest of her shift. Whatever George had said to him, it had been persuasive enough to leave Verity hanging. Around the coffee table were their various assorted drinks; a cheap cider for Earnest, ale for Brynn and Simon while Justine modestly sipped a butterbeer.

Verity was not so modest, knocking back her wine like there was something secret hiding in the bottom of the glass.

"So Si," asked Bryn with a lazy smile, "were the numbers behaving themselves today? Or are we all doomed?"

Simon tapped his nose, "I can't say. I'm an _Unspeakable_, Bryn, the clue is in the name." He threaded his fingers through Verity's after handing her the cigarette.

"You're a glorified maths nerd," teased Verity. "And when you say 'I can't say'- that just means you didn't get any solid answers today. Though of course we don't need numbers anymore to predict the whole 'we're all doomed' thing."

Around the table, her schoolmates sipped their drinks awkwardly and Verity released that she probably wasn't being at all fun to be around. Her friends were still as content as she had been to bury their heads in the sand. It was all going to be sorted out soon, just another little hiccough- like the hoo-ha that had been around when the Chamber of Secrets had been opened, when Sirius Black had escaped- it was just another problem for people cleverer and braver than they were to fix.

"Bryn got off with someone last night," she said to Simon, shifting the topic to happier things. "Another muggle girl, of course."

"What can I say, muggles are _fun_. The lights and the music, the short skirts and the vodka shots. I'm a hopeless addict."

Simon grinned, "We do know how to do good nights out- it's true. You wouldn't get the sort of girl you find in a muggle club walking through these doors. "

"But would you want to? Careful, Simon."

"God no- can you imagine a hag in a mini dress?" He leaned over and kissed Verity on the cheek, scratchy stubble against her face. "Anyway, I like my girls a little classier than that."

"So you're seeing someone other than Verity?" said Justine. Verity dipped her hand in her glass and sprinkled wine on Justine.

It got easier after that, much easier after the third glass of wine of the evening and as the crowd in Leaky Cauldron began to thin and the fire in the grate burned into its embers. The group got louder, their laughter filling the emptying pub- all but Earnest, who was as solemn drunk as he was sober.

"Seriously, the arse on this girl," Bryn had degenerated into relaying tales of another conquest. Verity placed her hands over Simon's ears.

"We need to go out together," Verity announced firmly. "A proper Hufflepuff night out in a muggle club…Simon can come too, of course."

"Thanks, good to know I can tag along," he rolled his eyes.

"I'd tie you up outside on a leash like a dog. But don't worry, we'd put some water in a bowl for you. You'd be up for that wouldn't you 'Tine?"

"We can't really afford it at the moment," shrugged Justine, one eye slipping shut as she struggled to keep her drunken head up. Lightweight. Earnest shot his girlfriend a mutinous glance. "I mean, I'm sure it will be alright when Earnest gets published, but right now things are a bit tight."

"Oh yes…your great biography of Elfrida what's-her-face. Past the introduction yet, mate?" said Bryn, draining the dregs of his beer mug.

"It's Elfrida _Clagg_- Chieftainess of the Warlock Council. And it takes a lot of research…but it'll sell. I know it will sell," he looked desperately at Justine as if to say 'I _promise_ it will sell'. Justine just smiled drunkenly and ran her hands through his hair.

"You could always get something small in the meantime, something that wouldn't take up too much time and would at least get you some gold. I mean, if you're really hard up I could have a word with Fred and George- it's a really good place to-"

"Yes thank you Verity," snapped Earnest. "But I think I'm a bit over qualified for that. I mean, who wants to waste their time in a shop? Working for people who were in the year below us at school- it's demeaning."

"I like it," shrugged Verity- it wasn't as though she hadn't heard all of this before, and far worse from Constance anyway.

"I have ambitions, no offense Verity. And not all of us have the luxury of being able to live with our parents forever."

"I have ambitions, too," said Verity. "I _do_." Now, if only she could actually think of any of them. "Private ambitions."

Earnest snorted. Verity was about to call him up on it when Justine started snoring. She exchanged a glance with Bryn and let out a bark of laughter.

"Think you'd better take her home, mate," grinned Bryn. "Oof, she'll feel _that_ tomorrow."

Both Bryn and Earnest stood up, hauling Justine with them supporting her on both of their shoulders.

"Night you two."

Verity blew a kiss and one after the other they stepped into the floo grates, yelling the names of their respective homes. Taking her last sip of wine Verity turned to Simon and leaned into his chest.

"Mmm, booze," she said into his work robes. "You're warm." Simon tipped her head up to kiss her and when they broke away he was smiling.

"Did you have an alright time today?"

"I did. It's good to be back at work, whether it's demeaning or not."

"Earnest's just stressed about money- don't take it personal."

"Nah I didn't. You coming back to mine tonight?" asked Verity, leaning back into Simon's chest.

"Very tempting, but I have to be in early tomorrow."

"My super important Unspeakable boyfriend."

"Not glorified maths nerd?"

"Of course not, who would even say that?"

They kissed again and Verity finally pulled herself up from the sofa, "I think Tom over there is giving us the evil eye; wants to close up." She gave the barman a cheeky wave and Simon, pretending to be mortified pulled it down.

"Cheating little hussy."

"I'll see you tomorrow," grinned Verity, pecking Simon on the lips and stepping into the grate.

* * *

The house was dark, the curtains all drawn and Verity staggered into the living room, stumbling over one of the cushions that had fallen to the floor. Fumbling for her wand, Verity cast lumos just to light her way up the stairs and hopefully to flop into bed. But then again, she might as well take the scenic route and go via the kitchen for a late night snack.

In the slim glow emitted from her wand, Verity could see that like the rest of the house the living room was in a state of disarray. She had tracked ash from the fireplace onto her mother's fresh cream carpets, there were bottles and fag butts here and there too while books from the book shelf were organised neatly onto the floor. The only thing that flourished in here, thanks to Hannah's efforts were the plants which had grown lush and thick and green.

Once she reached the kitchen, Verity went for the bread bin and decided that she might has well go the whole hog and make herself a sausage sandwich. Lighting the range with her wand, Verity was just listening to the satisfying sizzle of sausages in the pan when she heard something like a small explosion from upstairs.

Her first thought was Death Eaters- they'd got Mum and now they had broken in to finish the job. Forgetting the sausages, Verity found herself wishing that she had passed her apparating test- but acknowledged that she wouldn't be much use to her family if she showed up upstairs with one of her legs still downstairs. She ran as quick as she could, following the sound of another explosion into Hannah's room.

Considering it, it wasn't the best thing to do- her wand was still on the kitchen counter downstairs.

Fortunately for Verity there was no one but Hannah there.

"_Reducto,_"said Hannah clearly, pointing to her bed. On it were several plates from the kitchen lined up, fragments of china littered all over her floor. As she said the curse, another shattered into pieces. She noticed Verity and automatically put her wand behind her back.

"Hannah, what the bloody hell are you doing?"

Verity looked at the broken plates and then back at her sister, concluding quite reasonably that Hannah had gone mental.

"I thought you'd gone to Simon's," said Hannah, which wasn't really an answer to Verity's question.

"I hope you were planning on _fixing_ those. Jeez, if you need an outlet why don't you just get drunk or something- it works for dad and me."

"I was practising," said Hannah feebly.

"That's _illegal,_" said Verity, remembering that Hannah wasn't even of age. "You could get arrested for that. Shit, we do not need the improper use of magic people coming around here at this hour."

"It's fine," said Hannah and she blushed. "I did research. If there are other people of age in the house then it scrambles the trace on me- they'll all assume Dad is doing magic around me. I just… didn't want to fall behind."

"So you decided to _blow up_ our crockery. What the bloody hell are we going to eat off of tomorrow? That's just stupid, that's moronic, that's…that's… actually that was really good," Verity frowned, as it hit her what she'd seen. The reductor curse was a tricky one, that Verity had never been able to master in all of her years at Hogwarts and here was Hannah who frequently burst into tears waiting on her OWL results that summer because she was convinced she'd failed everything, pulling it off beautifully.

"Do that again," said Verity, folding her arms and leaning against the door.

"Are you serious?"

Verity was, so Hannah prepared herself. Clearly Verity had unsettled her a little as she didn't hit the plate square in the middle this time but it was still far more than Verity could manage and that plate was now definitely reducted.

"Well I suppose we don't have to worry about the washing up anymore."

"Don't tell Dad," said Hannah desperately, clasping her hands in the begging position. "Please, don't tell him."

"You know I won't," Verity waved her hands, as if to bat away all the pleading. "But seriously, that was really _really_ good Hannah. I had no idea you were so talented."

Hannah shook her head "I'm not. Not at all, no. I just had a good teacher really."

"In Defence Against the Dark Arts?" scoffed Verity, "Did we go to the same school because I seem to remember, aside from Professor Lupin ,all of the old teachers were monumentally crap." Verity still bitterly maintained that if Gilderoy Lockhart hadn't been her teacher during her OWL year she would have got higher than a P.

"Well," Hannah gave a sheepish smile. "I might not have had an _official_, qualified teacher."

"What does that even mean?"

"Harry Potter," said Hannah with a proud smile, brushing aside some of the shards of exploded plates and sitting on her bed.

"The chosen one? Blimey, Hannah. Well, I suppose he'd know all about defence against the dark arts wouldn't he?"

"It was last year," continued Hannah excitedly. "You know I told you about that Umbridge woman not teaching us properly- well Harry Potter decided that since you know who was back, even though no one was admitting it back then, we needed to know the important stuff and Ernie got me into it. Guess what we called ourselves?"

Verity pulled a face, "Oh I dunno, The Screaming Hippo Society…what?"

"Dumbledore's army," giggled Hannah. "An _army_. Anyway, we learnt loads of defensive spells from Harry Potter that we could actually use. That _he_ used against you know who and survived. And well…since I'm not there anymore, I didn't want to forget anything- especially if…."

"If what?"

Hannah leapt up and ran to her bedside drawer, fishing inside and pulling out a plain silver sickle. "Look."

"It's a coin," said Verity sceptically, her mind going back to the original 'Hannah has lost her marbles' line of thought.

"It's _my _coin. All of us in the DA have one. Whenever we had a meeting, the numbers here would change to reveal the time and date. And one day it's going to happen again, someone's going to need me and I'm going to go. I'm going to be ready for it this time too. That's why I'm practising ,Verity, so I can be useful."

Useful. The concept struck a chord with Verity who studied the coin. Hannah had the right idea, really, Verity couldn't fault that. But the thought of Hannah waiting by a coin and rushing off to be killed made Verity feel more than a little queasy. But she looked far happier and more alive than she had been in months. This was the Hannah Verity knew, the Hannah she had missed terribly.

There was silence for a moment before Verity finally decided to just go for it and speak. "So you learnt the reductor curse, what else?"

Hannah chewed her lip, remembering, "A disarming charm, the impediment jinx, the stunning spell, shield charms, a patronus charm-."

"You know how to do a patronus!" exclaimed Verity, now she was seriously impressed.

"Well, _almost_. I wasn't really getting it at school as fast as everyone else, but I came home this summer and practised lots," Hannah smiled impishly and Verity had to wonder for just how long her little sister had been secretly violating the restrictions on underage magic. "I pretty much had it down by the time I went back to Hogwarts- I was going to show Ernie…but Mum…" Hannah's smile faded, "I don't think I'll be able to do it any more. It's harder to think of happy memories now."

As soon as Hannah mentioned Mum, Verity knew that she'd made up her mind. There was no other option, not really.

"Hannah, do you think you could teach me?"

"Huh?"

"Well, it's like you said. We need to know this stuff- I never paid attention at school because it never occurred to me that we'd ever be in danger…but now we are and I'm a pile of hot turd when it comes to defensive spells. I want to be able to fight back. I want to be useful too."

"I've never taught anyone before, Verity. I was pretty much the worst one in the DA."

"You'll be able to run through it nice and slow for me then. And while you teach me you can practise too. If there's one thing Hufflepuff's are good at it's sticking at something and practising as hard as we can, even if we aren't the best at it to begin with."

Hannah considered it before she finally said, "Okay, I suppose I could try."

Verity smiled wide, pleased to finally say that she was actually doing something as opposed to milling around at the joke shop all day and getting drunk all night.

"Let's be useful for a bloody change! If Mum could see us now…"

Hannah nodded. "We'll be ready, I suppose…but I don't know what we'll be ready for."

"I suppose when the time comes, we'll know. Everyone gets an opportunity- even Hufflepuffs. Now, come on- you can teach me how to explode a plate. And if we're feeling particularly powerful we could even blow up a tea pot."

Hannah smiled at this, and then wrinkled up her nose, "Do you smell burning?"

"Oh shit, sausages!"


	5. Doubting

**Chapter four- Doubting. ****(December 1996) **

She was six years old, making salt dough in the kitchen while Mum tried to stop Hannah from eating the mixture.

She was eleven, feeling the warmth rush to her fingers as the first wand she'd been handed picked her- Dad said it showed that she was naturally lucky in life.

Lucky in love too; when Simon had first kissed her on the walk back from Hogsmeade to the castle she'd had a cold, but he hadn't minded catching it too. That summer, they fed ducks in parks and he took her back to his bedroom on the estate- putting on something he called a CD player.

But there was still nothing more than a pathetic wisp of silver falling from her wand like cigarette smoke.

"Are you sure I'm doing it right?" frowned Verity. She switched her wand in her hand and wrung out her tired wrist.

It had been several weeks now, since Hannah and Verity had first endeavoured to begin their practise at learning defensive spells. Verity was pleased with her efforts in most of them, The reductor curse had been mastered, and they'd branched out into spells not taught by Harry Potter in the DA, pooling their collective Hogwarts textbooks and researching useful and sometimes interesting spells and practising them together.

It was a shame that the Patronus charm was damn near impossible to do. Hannah, of course, was closer to mastering it than her big sister and sometimes the shape of a silvery rodenty thing, most likely a mink or a polecat could be clearly seen- but it wasn't consistent. Verity was rather excited when something like a feather almost hiccoughed out of her wand but it hadn't been repeated since. In the grand scheme of things a single feather patronus was all kinds of crap.

"Yeah, I think so- but you have to _really_ focus in on a happy memory. Like, I think that you can't think of anything else, not even think about making a patronus and the reasons why you want one; it just has to be the memory. I think. "

Verity nodded and frowned at her wand. "I'm going to get this. It's my New Year's resolution I think."

* * *

Christmas was a little over a week away now, the shop had been busier than ever with Hogwarts returning home and visiting Diagon Alley to purchase Christmas presents and assorted gifts. That day, Verity was run off her feet,up to her elbows in blood after some child thought he'd sneak a few bars of nosebleed nougat into his fat chops without anyone noticing.

So when closing time rolled around, Verity almost fainted on her feet, but made do with using a simple cleaning spell to tidy things up a bit.

"Verity," said George and she whirled around. Please nothing else unpleasant to deal with tonight. "I wanted to know if you'd be able to manage things around here for us tomorrow. Possibly a little longer- nothing major, just making sure no one sets the place on fire," he grinned. "Which, thinking about it, wasn't the best idea to put you in charge of."

Nodding, Verity looked at her employer sceptically, as he unlocked the till and began to collect up today's takings.

"Sure, Mr Weasley. Family thing? Or something business related?"

"Neither," shrugged George, running a hand through a bundle of silver sickles. "You know you have blood on your face?"

"Oh for merlin's sake…that little bastard," sighed Verity, licking her finger and trying to wipe it off. "Where is it?"

"Sort of…all over. You just smudged it- now you look like some gory tomato. You pull it off rather nicely."

Verity shuddered, "That's horrible," and began frantically scrubbing at her face while George laughed.

"Dancing isn't going to help. Look, let me," he raised his wand

Instinctively, Verity turned her head as soon as George said the incantation and as such only one half of her face was cleaned. George broke the spell and looked at her, with amusement.

"Hold still, you'll get a wand in your eye otherwise."

"Sorry, it's a reflex. When I was in my first year at Hogwarts, my older brother Brookes got me full in the face with an engorgio charm. I had to go to the hospital wing with someone there to help me support my nose. Since then ,I can't really deal with wands right in my face."

"Well you can trust me, can't you?" grinned George and Verity raised her eyebrows at him.

"Do I have to dignify that with a response, Mr Weasley?"

George laughed and put his right hand on Verity's face to hold it still and stop her from turning away. She felt her skin grow colder as the blood was cleared but warmer underneath George's palm.

"Eesh, maybe we should have left the blood on. At least it covered your face."

"Thank's George," said Verity dimly, but she smiled. "And yes, I do trust you." She recalled back to her half conversation with Fred and how his face had been grimly determined and also, Verity thought, mistrustful. "Do you trust me?" She prompted.

"Would we be putting you in charge of mine and Fred's baby if we weren't."

"Okay one," said Verity rolling her eyes. "When you call the shop 'your's and Fred's baby' it gives me the creeps, just a little bit. And two, what do you mean '_we_'? I didn't mean you and Fred. Do _you _trust me?"

So maybe he might have taken a little longer to answer than Verity would have liked but at least he said: "Yeah, I do."

_Well then what was it that Fred wanted to tell me, and you were so desperate that I didn't hear about? _Was what Verity wanted to ask. But she realized that George still had his hand on her face and stepped away lightly, with a laugh to cover the inappropriateness.

And then, before she could speak again George got in first.

"Been reading the papers?"

And there it was again, the constant reminder that between Christmas shopping, stupid kids with bloody noses and her boss holding her face like that You Know Who was back. It was like a Grim that constantly lurked behind every corner. She wanted to pretend she couldn't see it.

"My Dad works for the Daily Prophet," said Verity with a shrug. "He hates having one in the house, won't ever get a subscription in case it accidently falls open to his column. He always says 'once it's gone to print, I never want to see an article again'. We mostly get our news from the wireless- its better. I always fancied myself being a reporter on the wireless."

"A face for radio?"

"Something like that. But yeah, I know what's going on, for the most part. Scrimgeour seems to be doing a good job, don't you think?"

"About as good a job as a chocolate teapot," scoffed George before blinking. "Hey, that isn't a bad idea. Chocolate teapots disguised as real ones- confuse your granny as her pot starts to melt."

"Great. But, Scrimgeour? I mean everyone says he's doing well. He doesn't take any rubbish and isn't like Fudge denying everything about You-Know-Who being back, that has to be a good thing right? I mean the ministry is still going strong. Simon really approved of the appointment, you know."

George grinned suddenly, triumphantly and glanced at his watch. "Quarter past six. I still think that counts."

"What counts?" said Verity narrowing her eyes.

"Oh, me and Fred have just been keeping track of how long it takes before you mentioned Sexy Simon."

"Sensational Simon!" called Fred's voice from the backroom.

"With all respect, Mr Weasley- you're an idiot. You both are! Now, if you don't mind- could we close up, I'm late."

"Well you can't keep Scrumptious Simon waiting!"

Verity blew out heavily. Being around Fred and George was for the most part an exhausting and arduous career path, forget being an auror and wrangling Death Eaters at least your colleagues didn't time how often (rarely!) you mentioned your boyfriend.

"Seriously though, Verity? Your Simon works for the ministry doesn't he?"

"Yes, an _Unspeakable_. I'm sure I've mentioned it- don't take the piss."

"And he's not…heard anything suspicious," said her boss casually, "Being in the department of mysteries and all. Or just in general?"

"Well he's not really supposed to say, and I got bored of asking and getting the same answers."

"Muggle born? You said once, I think- I can't remember. Honestly, we mostly tune out when you start talking."

"Yes he's muggle born," said Verity rolling her eyes. "You know if I worked anywhere else this kind of bullying from the management would get you into trouble and me a pay rise."

"We find that staff productivity increases by up to sixty percent after we start insulting their appearance, it's good business," joked George. "But…it's been okay for him, being Muggleborn?"

"Why wouldn't it? I don't understand," Verity squinted as though she'd been presented with a tricky transfiguration essay, pretty much her default expression throughout her school career. "The ministry is doing alright, isn't it?"

"For now, yes," said George, the words sounding a bit painful. "But Simon's a muggle born…it might get difficult. I mean, You Know Who could have people on the inside."

Verity bit her lip, wanting to say that it wasn't possible- that George was clearly just being paranoid. But then again, someone else might have said that warm week in September that Death Eaters jumping out and murdering the first Muggleborn they came across was paranoid too.

Verity thought of her Mum, in that alley, under the dark mark and found it all too easy to slip Simon into her place.

* * *

It was a thought that played heavily on her mind, first on her way home passed Mr Ollivander's sad, abandoned wand shop and then that evening in Simon's flat. He had only recently saved up enough gold to buy the little flat on the Electric Avenue in Brixton. Above one of the typical West Indian greengrocers it looked like any other muggle flat, and it was almost impossible to see the magical modifications that Simon had inherited from the previous occupant.

On the inside the flat wasn't as little as one might expect. Simon hadn't bothered to explain to Verity why he'd laughed so hard when she had exclaimed that it was 'bigger on the inside'.

Typical of Simon, it held a hotchpotch of the Muggle and the Magical. Next to a poster of the Hollyhead Harpies was another, equally sized but unmoving poster of a black man with an afro set against a psychedelic backdrop. He was connected to the Floo Network but he also had a Telly-visual thing, his shelf was filled with magical books and the cutlery in his drawers had a habit of growing actual feet and moving but Simon was still wondering how he was going to get his phone line connected so he could talk to his Mum.

They'd mixed up the usual night's itinerary of a takeaway and a bottle of wine in front of the telly before retreating to the bedroom for sex and instead headed straight for the sex, to be followed by a bottle of wine and a takeaway in bed. Mopping up chips with chilli sauce in one of Simon's souvenir quidditch sweaters, Verity had to admit that she liked it this way better.

"Deep fat fryers," said Simon, biting into a burger with the kind of precision that only came with practise. Verity however, was making a mess of things- strands of lettuce spilling onto the bed and a healthy globule of mayonnaise around her mouth. "I think we've found the one thing Muggles do better than Wizards."

"I might have to concede that point," grinned Verity, popping another chip in her mouth and then smearing one liberally in chilli sauce and feeding it to Simon. He winced at the spiciness and buried his head into the duvet. And then he was just lying there. All too easily, Verity could imagine him dead.

"You need to quit your job," said Verity suddenly.

"Huh?" Simon looked up from the duvet, a smile still on his face. He thought she was joking.

"Your job. Quit it," she urged.

"What? What's this about?" Simon's smile slowly began to fade from his face as he realised that Verity was being deadly serious.

"It isn't safe. There's a chance that the ministry is going to be infiltrated, George even said that it could be happening already."

"Well if _George_ says it, it must be true."

"I'm being serious. They know what they are talking about."Or at least, Verity assumed that the twins did Her employers knew more than they were letting on, she knew that.

"I'm being serious too, Vez. I can't just quit my job- not on the off chance that something _might_ go wrong." He took a bite out of his burger, as though to say to her that the conversation was clearly over.

"Simon, you're a muggleborn," Verity shunted herself over the duvet and gripped on his arm, to really try and drive home the enormity of the situation. "You didn't know about it the first time, but if you know who and his supporters get the chance they will _kill _all of the muggleborns. Si, you remember when the Chamber of Secrets was open? That's the kind of hate they feel about muggleborns. You need to lay low, go somewhere."

"On what money, Verity? I can't quit."

She was starting to piss him off now. His brows knitted together and his posture was held stiff.

"I can't believe we're even arguing about this," said Verity incredulously. "You don't understand-"

"No _you_ don't understand," Simon finally snapped. "I wasn't going anywhere before Hogwarts- you think you know about the muggle world from a couple of visits to the pub and some tv shows? Well you don't. I promised my mum I'd look after her, after all the crap she went through on a council estate. That job is the only thing I have to support her."

"Get a new one, a muggle one- or better yet leave the country."

"I can't just get a new job. You think I can go into a muggle office and show them my NEWTS? Out there I'm just some unqualified black kid. I wear suits and people call me 'Mr. Stanley' here, but out there…I'm not worth shit. I worked hard to get where I am and I'm not walking away from that just because your boss _thinks_ that it might be dangerous. Thanks for the head's up, George, but no thanks."

"And I'm not letting you kill yourself because of your bloody pride," hissed Verity. "They killed my mum, remember? I can't loose you as well."

Simon paused for a minute, thinking. Verity hoped that he was seriously considering it now. But when he spoke, her heart sank.

"Okay then, come with me. Quit your job and we'll both leave the country together."

"I can't."

"Why not? If it's as dangerous as you say, we should both go."

"You know I can't."

He wasn't being fair. Simon knew that she would never go now, not with Dad the way he was, Hannah only just starting to get better- hell, Verity had begged her not to go back to Hogwarts and leave Verity alone with Dad so how the hell could Verity do the same and expect Hannah to be okay with it.

And running away- it just didn't feel right to Verity, didn't feel like something she ought to do.

"Oh? But I can just walk away from _my _job. Well I mean, of course, working for the ministry isn't nearly as important or prestigious as working in a joke shop. Fred and George can't just hire someone else to sell boiled sweets and fake moustaches can they?"

"Simon…"

"This is bullshit, Verity. You want me to fuck off and leave everything but you won't do the same."

"My family…"

"_My mum_," said Simon. There was silence for a minute and Verity curled her body up, knees pressed into her chest as she peered at him carefully. "Are we done now?"

"Fine, whatever," mumbled Verity like a spoilt child. "Get yourself killed. I hope next month's paycheque is worth it."

Simon shook his head and lay down, his back to Verity. "You can stay or go, it's up to you."

Verity watched his back, the rise and fall of angry breathing. But she sighed and slipped back down into the bed, wrapping her arms around the tree trunk of Simon's torso. Of course she was going to stay; it would be totally un-Hufflepuff of her not to. And so, apparently, was he- it wasn't a thought that exactly overwhelmed her with confidence.

Not when things were getting worse, when more muggleborns were dying and the whispers of Death Eaters and You Know Who had ceased to be whispers- more like screams in the night.


	6. Vester Abbott

**Chapter five -Vester Abbott**** December 1996**

This year, Christmas only really served to make Verity feel old. Two years out of school, in a world treading lightly over the cusp of war there wasn't so much fun to be had in a Christmas without Joy Abbott. The frail wisps of light that were supposed to make up Hannah and Verity's patronuses got frailer and wispier as the holiday season approached.

In preparation for Christmas, Constance had scoured the family home utilizing every cleaning spell in the book and sighing and gasping at the tiniest bits of mould that happened to grow in mugs and on used teabags as though she'd never seen a bit of moss before- Verity found all quite ridiculous.

"Do you want to _kill_ Granddad when he comes?" Constance had moaned, shaking a dirty teaspoon in Hannah and Verity's had only lowered her head and mumbled 'sorry Connie' but Verity really didn't see how a dirty teaspoon was going to kill Granddad Shadrach, who was more hard wearing than anyone else she knew.

"Of course, think of the inheritance Connie," shrugged Verity. Constance had not found this funny.

Shadrach Abbott was, to put it kindly, a bit of an eccentric. Like Dad, he was a tall, large man with a hearty amount of fat sitting around his middle. He was very loud indeed and had a laugh that might well cause an avalanche from some high up alp. At eighty, still considering himself very much in the prime of life, the likelihood of Shadrach ending up on a high up alp was far greater than one would expect.

They heard him, before they saw him- on the afternoon of the 24th. Even his footsteps were louder than most. Granddad Shadrach never apparated anywhere if he could help it, "The more miles a wizard travels on foot, the longer he will live for," Granddad liked to say in his great booming voice.

Hannah opened the door and gave a little squeak of 'Grandad!" trying to wrap her arms around the great girth of him. His beard was still a reddish brown colour and he had far less grey about his hair than dad did- dyed, because Shadrach was not without his small vanities.

Dad, stony faced stood in the hallway at the foot of the stairs. "Hello Dad," said Verity's father stiffly.

"Jed, my boy! My Jedediah, how are you!" Granddad pulled 'his boy, Jed' into a tight hug. Verity couldn't help but shoot a glance at Hannah who let out a small snuffly giggle.

"And Verity where's all your lovely hair gone, young lady?" Verity smiled while her short hair got a thorough ruffling. "Where are the rest of the troops?"

"Connie and Brian are joining us tomorrow."

"What about Brooks?

One thing that ought to be mentioned about Shadrach Abbott, was his ability to be completely inappropriate and totally unskilled at reading the mood of present company. Verity and Hannah shot each other twin looks, disapproving of Brook's absence.

Truth be told, Verity could have killed him- he didn't bother to get in contact for months after Mum's funeral and when he did it was to announce that he was going to be spending Christmas- their _first _Christmas without Mum- with his friends in Spain.

After New Year, Brooks was so dead- Verity would make sure of it.

"He's gone to Spain," said Hannah darkly.

"Spain? Beautiful country," grinned Granddad Shadrach. "I had an old Spanish acquaintance once, Julio. I remember we had a terrible falling out in Madrid, tried to have a duel. Well, Julio wasn't a dab hand at charms, shall we say, and he accidentally hit some poor Muggle artist chappy with a confundus charm. I don't think he'd ever paint right after that, poor chap. Have you got any whiskey Jed?"

* * *

Connie, Hannah and Verity had done their best to cook Christmas dinner and while Brian had done the unthinkable and somehow managed to salvage the turkey, the rest of the food really was appalling.

"Joy really was a wonderful cook," said Shadrach, looking statuesque in the huge furry grenadiers hat he'd managed to pull from a cracker. He poured gravy with the consistency of glue over vegetables boiled to death and something chargrilled black and sad looking that Verity had to insist was the sage and onion stuffing. "It's amazing how Muggles have perfected the art of cooking without any magic."

"Mum used magic," said Hannah, sort of just staring at her Christmas dinner as though she wasn't sure where to start from, a red fez with a whirling tassel from her own Christmas cracker on her head. "She hadn't cooked the muggle way in years- Verity tried it and well," with difficulty Hannah speared a hunk of stuffing and held it out for the table to enjoy. There was a lot of laughter aimed at her, and certainly not with her.

"It's Simon's Mum's recipe," shrugged Verity. "She swore blind that only an idiot could ruin it."

"Simon is Verity's lad," Dad added to fill in Granddad. "Muggle born."

Shadrach, who was now on his fifth sherry nodded sagely, "she takes after you then, Jed," he chuckled, wheezing to himself. "The Abbotts have been blood traitors for as long as that concept existed, you know."

"And why not?" said Dad stiffly. "Good work on the potatoes, Connie."

"Thanks," said Constance airily- the potatoes had somehow managed to turn grey. "The recipe called for goose fat to make them crispy. But I couldn't find that, so I had to ...improvise."

Verity noticed Brian spitting potato into a handkerchief and decided not to risk it.

"It's in our nature of course," said Granddad, necking another sherry. "True Hufflepuffs."

"Improvising with potatoes is in our nature?" said Hannah with an odd glance over at Shadrach. "Since when?"

Now, Granddad let out a most hearty guffaw- a booming laugh which was so powerful that Verity felt like the wine glasses on the table might get knocked over. "No, Hannah poppet, no. It's in our nature to be Blood Traitors."

"You know I don't like using that term, Dad."

"Why the devil shouldn't I use it?" sniffed Shadrach. "We're named it- might as well claim it. You know my sister used to wear that title like a badge of honour, she did. My dear Vester. A clearer embodiment of Helga Hufflepuff you never saw. I don't care what anyone says-"

"Oh don't start this again please," said Dad, rolling his eyes and taking a sip of his booze.

"Jokes," said Constance firmly. "Has anyone got a decent joke in their cracker?"

"I'll tell you what's a joke," persisted Shadrach, "That _family_. Those Smiths have no right running around claiming to be the only line descended from Hufflepuff. So what if our line is filtered with muggles and muggle borns? That's the _point_."

"Who's for Christmas pudding?" said Dad, firmly ignoring his father- as he was prone to do whenever this nonsense about Helga Hufflepuff came up.

Verity couldn't imagine they would need to soak the Christmas pudding in brandy to get it to light; Granddad Shadrach or Dad could simply breathe on it.

Connie leapt from her chair and wiped gravy from her mouth with a breathy smile, "At least we can guarantee this tastes good. I _bought_ this."

"Helga Hufflepuff," continued Shadrach hotly, "was a great friend to muggleborns, just like my sister. That's a _true_ descendant. She gave her life for them."

Verity, who'd been spearing off colour peas on her fork looked up and peered at Shadrach, "She did?"

"Oh yes, dear Vester had the kindest heart of anyone I knew. It was when the dark wizard Grindlewald was at his peak, that she and a group of other's provided wizards around Germany safe passage to the United Kingdom- and at great personal risk. She looked after them, took them in when no one else would- the way Helga Hufflepuff would have done. In the end, it was her kind heart that saw her killed."

"Auntie Vester had a stroke when I was four. It was_ literally_ her kind heart that killed her," said Dad shortly. "Come off it Dad, you can't try and claim that the Dark Wizard Grindlewald induced a stroke on a middle aged woman from inside of a German prison."

"She carried the strain of that war with her- it scarred her and affected her health, she was never the same."

Constance turned all the lights off and brought out the Christmas pudding before Dad or Shadrach could say another word. The Christmas Pudding at least was not a disaster, it was plump and rich looking and charmed so that when it burnt shapes and scenes flickered in the blue flames.

When dinner was over, the family retired to the sitting room. After a game of charades, Constance and Brian fell asleep on the sofa both leaning on each other, both with wide gaping mouths and raspy snores. It was only when Hannah broke out the exploding snap that Verity realised that Dad had not been present for a long time. After losing quite painfully to Granddad Shadrach at snap, Verity went to find her father.

It was dark outside, and the lights were off in the kitchen so it was only the faint rustle of a table cloth and the lurch of a chair as it was pulled forwards that alerted Verity to his presence. In the dark, she could make out the heavy, hard features of his face though they warped into a weak smile the minute Dad saw her.

"I escaped exploding snap," Verity said gently when he lifted his head. "It's actually obscene that Granddad's reactions should be so quick at his age."

Dad chuckled, "Well, you do know that he's probably going to outlive us all." Verity laughed too, but it filtered away all too quickly.

Verity wanted to say, that she'd missed Mum a lot too today but found she couldn't quite manage it instead she looked at the turkey carcass besides Dad and let a wave of silence wash over the kitchen.

"I suppose we'll have to do the dishes tomorrow," she said quietly. "I can't believe I have to work on Boxing Day. It won't even be busy- most people will be with their families, surely."

Dad only nodded and Verity decided that all this sitting in the dark really was too hopelessly depressing and put the lights back on. She gripped her father on the shoulder and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

"Merry Christmas, Daddy."

"Merry Christmas, Verity."

She left, and only heard the deep intake of breath from the kitchen. Popping her head through the living room door she saw that Hannah and Granddad had abandoned the snap and were now talking quite seriously about something or other.

"I never knew myself how she did it," Granddad was saying in a low voice. "But if you go there- you might find out for yourself."

"Go where?" said Verity lightly. Hannah looked up, unable to ever hide that guilty expression she wore when caught doing something she shouldn't.

"Here there and everywhere," said Shadrach with a chuckle. "I'm just regaling your sister with more travels from my youth. I don't think I've told you girls about an expedition your grandmother and I went on to Peru, have I?"

He probably had, as it went, but all the same Verity shook her head and slouched into an arm chair. Picking up a tray of chocolates, she only half listened to Shadrach while feeding chocolate into her face and started to shut her eyes contentedly. Quite without meaning too, Verity drifted off into a pleasant sleep.

**A/N: Thank you so much to annewed and jadely 31 for reviewing**


	7. The Hogwarts Express

**Chapter six- The Hogwarts Express (has left the station)**** (January 1997)**

"We are _not_ discussing it again," Jed Abbott said angrily. "No, Hannah."

Head buried in her pillow, still recovering from the epic four day hangover from New Years eve Verity heard the muffled but bitter argument going on outside. Simon was still asleep, his dark arm slung over her back which Verity lifted lightly and tiptoed out of the door.

Walking down the hall from her bedroom, Verity found a Mexican standoff of sorts going on between her sister and her Father. Hannah was in her Hogwarts robes and clutching a trunk standing at the top of the stairs while Dad stood at the bottom, holding his arms out to block her way.

This kind of carry on really shouldn't be happening at this time of the morning, Verity wanted to shout angrily.

"This isn't fair," said Hannah, her face anguished. "_Everyone_ is going back- if I don't then I'll fall so behind that I'll never get any NEWTS. I want to be with my friends ,Daddy."

"No," growled Jed. "How many more times?"

"Why?"

"Because you are _my_ daughter and these are _my_ rules."

"I'm sixteen! I'll be seventeen in a few months time and then I'll be of age. You can't control me."

"I'm not arguing with you Hannah, I'm not_ asking_ you to do anything. I am _telling_ you to put that bloody trunk away."

Hannah stood there for a few minutes, her face twisting up and getting redder, her fingers getting whiter as they tightened on the handle of her school trunk. She gasped like a fish and tried to speak. Verity saw running down her cheek a twin smear of tears before Hannah shouted angrily.

"Fine! Fine, I don't care."

Hannah ran past Verity and the door of her room slammed shut, while Dad leaned against the wall and ran a hand through his hair. Verity caught his eye for a few moments but didn't know whether to smile reassuringly for his sake or frown and shake her head for Hannah's. So she did nothing and instead followed Hannah into her room.

She was curled up in a ball on the bed and Verity sat besides her, with a timid, "you okay, Hans?"

"Clearly," said Hannah in a little voice. "Why is he doing this? It isn't _fair_."

"He's being selfish, I know. But he just wants us to be near; he's scared. That isn't Dad's fault."

"Hogwarts is the safest place on earth," said Hannah hotly. "Everyone knows that You Know Who is afraid of Dumbledore. And as long as Dumbledore is alive, I don't see why I shouldn't be allowed to go back."

Verity nodded, "I'm glad you're here. Look," she took a pencil from Hannah's bedside table and tossed it into the air, with a flick of her wand and a mutter of 'Reducto' the pencil exploded in midair. "I'm shit at magic- I shouldn't be able to do stuff like that, but I can. If it's falling behind you're worried about, trust me- I won't let you."

"But it's not just that," said Hannah sadly. "I miss everyone _so_ much. Ernie and Susan were gossiping about who's snogged who before Christmas and who fancies who and I can't join in because I'm falling behind with my friends as well. You're at work all day and all you're friends have already left school so you don't know how lonely it gets," she sniffed and Verity shoved an arm around her.

"God, I'm sorry Hannah. I didn't think- we'll spend more time together from now on, I promise."

Hannah shook her head, "No…I don't mean it like that. I just hate being here and doing nothing."

"You could get a job?"

Hannah nodded, "I thought about that. It might be nice to have money saved up, and at least then there would be something I can do with my time."

Verity nodded, it was a shit situation to be in all round.

"But now, Dad can't really complain when I go to Wales."

Well now Hannah had lost her. "Wales?" said Verity with her eyebrows raised. "What in the hell do you want to go to Wales for?"

Hannah blushed, "It sounds really stupid, I know. But I got to thinking about Great Aunty Vester- I mean, no one in our family has ever been brave or done anything like that. It would be nice to see where she lived. Where she kept them- you know, the people she brought over from Germany. I just want to know how she did it. And anyway Granddad Shadrach told me at the time she had a little house in a place called Tal y Cafn. "

Verity shook her head and laughed a little bit, "Hannah, we're not keeping Germans. I don't care if you want a pet; a German is a big responsibility."

It also occurred to her that Shadrach Abbott had a gift for spinning tall tales which aroused scepticism at best, and were out and out porkers at worst- Hannah, if she went to Wales on the trail of some heroic great aunt would more than likely be disappointed.

"I don't know Hannah, I mean- there _is_ a war on-"

"Yes, and You Know Who is probably in a tiny village in Wales. All I need to do, is stay in a muggle hotel- I'll get the train down, we went on day trips with Mum on muggle trains all the time." Cornwall and Brighton to be by the sea- Mum bringing Muggle picnics to eat on the train and telling them all stories of when she was a little girl, Verity remembered- the kind of day you would call on if you needed to think of a happy memory to create a patronus- not that Verity could of course.

"I could go with you, you know," said Verity, just thinking of Hannah alone out there somewhere wasn't the best of memories. "Get a couple of days off work, like a holiday."

"But Dad would be on his own," said Hannah, chewing on her lip.

"For four days at most. And Connie is just a pinch of floo powder away, anyway. I'd feel better if we went together- and so would Dad probably. Simon might come too if he can get time off."

"I…I didn't really see it being like a big trip."

"It's just Simon," shrugged Verity. "He'll keep quiet. It might even be easier if we took floo powder to Bryn's parent's place. They live in Wales, you know. But then again, might not be the best idea to bring Simon- not a big fan of muggleborns, Bryn's parents."

That in itself was something of an understatement. They weren't from a line of Slytherins but the Stebbins had been influential Ravenclaws and not exactly adverse to some of You Know Who's ideas. Bryn had been the family idiot, ending up in Hufflepuff of course and his family cared for him in the kind of way one might a particularly dim Labrador- he was simple but he was family.

"We can work out the details later," shrugged Verity. "And perhaps if we waited for the weather to warm up, it might be even better." She was just stalling, but Hannah didn't notice and nodded.

"I'll still be here, probably," said Hannah sadly.

"You'll get back to Hogwarts," said Verity with a smile. "It won't be long now, surely. The Minister for Magic, the Aurors, The Chosen One- it's going to turn out all right in the end."

"And what do we do till then?" said Hannah in a high pitched voice. "Sit around and pretend that everything is normal? Mum's _dead _and the people who killed her are still out there, but you and Dad have to go to work everyday, keep calm and carry on. All the time checking behind our shoulders."

* * *

"What was that about?"

Stepping into her room, Verity was greeted with a shirtless Simon sat up in her bed. Verity shook her head and dove under the heat of the black and white duvet- in the colours of the Montrose Magpies of course. Her room was filled with black and white quidditch memorabilia as well as her black and yellow Hufflepuff scarf still pinned to her corkboard. The wardrobe fixed in the corner was covered with pictures of friends; Justine sticking her tongue out and hamming up her poses , Bryn raising his eyebrow or gurning while Earnest tried to slink away. The piles of enchanted soft toys she'd never had the heart to throw out dosed on a shelf above her desk.

"The train leaves for Hogwarts this morning," said Verity. "I think Hannah was doing her best to make sure she was on it."

"I don't know what your dad's playing at," shrugged Simon. "Hannah has every right to be back there, she's right."

Verity stopped snuggling into the pillow and looked at him sharply. "And my Dad has every right to be worried about his daughter. We lost our Mum four months ago, and I know my sister okay? She might think that she'll be able to cope back there so soon…but it'll fall apart and she won't have us to depend on."

Simon at least knew that Abbott family matters were a sacred thing to Verity and didn't push it. Verity pulled herself into his arms, her head resting on his chest.

"And the war," she mumbled. "My Dad's worried about Hannah. Worried that at Hogwarts she would have been in danger, and that the safest thing to do sometimes is leave- go away for a while, and come back when no one is at risk of dying."

"Your Dad and Hannah?" said Simon sceptically. Okay, so she was never going to win points for her subtlety.

"How _is_ work?" said Verity, abandoning all pretenses.

"Work is fine, Vez. I wish you'd drop this. If anything, they are treating muggleborns better exactly _because_ they don't want us to leave."

"Aren't you afraid?"

Simon breathed out heavily and snaked his arms around Verity, pulling her close for a kiss. "Not of the same things you are, I think. I love this world, Vez. I love being a wizard, I love my job. I love that getting my Hogwarts letter means that I got to be here. I'm not giving that up."

Verity nodded, fretting on her lip still as she found herself torn between her arguments and Simon's.

"What about one day off?" said Verity. "A weekend away. I figure we both need a holiday."

"We're on holiday now," pointed out Simon and Verity told him to stop being such a Ravenclaw. "Fine, where did you have in mind? Somewhere warm- like the South of France? Or something cultural- dining out in Austria? Or... partying in Malaga?"

"Wales."

"_Wales_? What in the hell does anyone want to go to Wales for?"

"Apparently it's quite a beautiful part of the world. Imagine, rolling green valleys and idyllic pubs, quaint hotels- that sort of thing."

Simon shrugged, "I suppose I could get into that. Just you, me and nature."

"And Hannah."

"Huh?"

"Well, it was her idea to go on this trip. Apparently some Great Aunt lived in the area and Hannah wants to do the whole heritage thing and go and see it. But you know how to drive a muggle car, don't you? That would help us get around."

"And here I was thinking you wanted to spend time with me, and really you just want a driver," huffed Simon.

"Well I _do _want to spend time with you. And I just think, it'll be easier to get around without drawing attention to ourselves in a car- from Muggles and…if anything dangerous was out there."

"You're not giving me much of a choice about this are you?"

"Not really," grinned Verity. "So try and get a Friday off some time in March." March. It felt weird to be making plans beyond tomorrow, like this. Presumably Joy Abbott had made plans too, before she'd been killed- so maybe had Hannah, before she'd been pulled out of school so abruptly. But there it was. Surely the Wizarding World would survive until March?


	8. Teabags

**Chapter seven- Teabags** **February 1997 (Part I)**

They acted like they didn't notice it at first. Verity checked the stock and tidied the shelves while Fred counted up the day's takings and George spoke at length for a great idea about the next big thing.

Only, there was no need to check a stock that never went down and no need to tidy shelves that were never touched. The day's taking's never needed counting because there were none and there was no point in coming up with the next big thing if there was nobody to sell it to.

It started off with the same silly, light hearted nature of any good joke. They played with the merchandise, pranking each other to fill up the hours of dead time. Fred even set off a portable swamp in the street outside, trying to generate the attention of the passing trade. It didn't work.

But still, Verity tried her best to keep on smiling. Kept insisting that this was a lull and that things were bound to pick up sooner or later- praying that the twins wouldn't decide that to save money they needed to cut down on staff hours or even the staff in general.

She kept trying to remind herself that losing her job really was the least of her worries. The new big fear was Fenrir Greyback- a werewolf on You Know Who's side who roamed the country side looking for children to savage. It was the kind of macabre story Verity could remember from the cautionary fairy tales of her childhood.

Verity couldn't help but recall what Simon had said to her last month. He loved the wizarding world, and being a part of it- but all Verity could wonder was what on earth could be so bad about Muggles that this- savage werewolves, You Know Who and coming downstairs to find an auror in your living room telling your father that your mother had been murdered just because of the kind of people she was born to- was the better option.

Presumably, all this gloominess had started to show on her face and had finally begun to affect the twins. That afternoon, the weather wasn't particularly inspiring either as the rain battered the windows of the shop and a dark grey gloom had descended over Diagon Alley. Fred, idly charming a stack of shield hats so that they hovered like strange felt birds in the air suddenly stopped and looked at Verity who was flicking through the latest edition of Wizard's New Music Express.

"Verity, look, maybe you should just go home."

Alarmed, she looked up and shut her magazine. Almost automatically her eyes went to George who emerged from the stockroom with an amused grin, as always, on his face. "What's this?"

"There isn't much point is there, if the day is slow," Fred smiled like it was some kind of special treat, like she was eight and being allowed an extra hour up before bedtime, or fifty pence extra pocket money from mummy. "Take the afternoon off and do something."

Verity however was not eight, and she certainly wasn't buying it.

"That's okay Mr Weasley,I can do the stock take for this month if it's quiet right now."

"Never ask a Hufflepuff if they want to slope off work early, Fred," grinned George.

"That's why you hired me," Verity slipped WNME into her bag by the counter as she stood up. Rolling her sleeves up, there was a real 'please don't fire me, please' sort of look on her face. "I'll start in the back room, Mr Weasley."

It was a large room with shelves reaching up much higher than you'd expect if you were to look at the shop from the outside- in the early days, when Fred and George had been new at owning and running Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes , the stock hadn't been so high- but now that George had perfected his charms to increase production and Fred had cleverly come up with ways to outsource their original products as well as the old favourites that school children were used to finding in Zonko's joke shop the back room was filled with products.

Slotting the door shut behind her, Verity plucked the quill from its place in a drawer by the rows of shelves along with a wad of graph paper. She tapped the quill with her wand and mumbled, "_A-_ _Antigravity hats". _The quill stood to attention and hovered in the air, before ruffling slightly and floating as though caught in a light breeze up to the box of anti gravity hats. Verity herself knelt on the floor, for want of something to do, besides the Ten Second Pimple Vanisher and slid it onto the tiles. Running her finger along bottles of translucent liquid she idly counted how much stock was in the box and examined whether it was all within its sell-by date.

And then she choked back one dry sob, pressed a hand to her mouth and muffled another.

_Perspective, Verity Abbott_, she reminded herself firmly. Only it was hard to see anything like the bigger picture in a dim stockroom with her head in a box of spot potion. Her mother had never minded her taking this job- not like Constance who'd been offended at the very idea of it- but she'd said lightly to Verity one afternoon 'You shouldn't forget that you can do better."

Verity didn't _want_ to do better; she just wanted to be here. Or, rather she wanted to be back in May when she'd first got this job, when Mum had been alive and everything had felt alright.

"You get a chance to go home early but you're up to your elbows in pimple potion instead?"

Sniffing sharply, Verity didn't raise her head from the task of counting. She was aware of the quill floating down beside her to neatly record the amount of Anti-gravity hats onto the graph paper. "_A- Aviatomobiles_" she said quietly to the quill which was content to flitter off again.

"Verity? Are you alright?"

"Fine, Mr Weasley," said Verity with a little smile. "Happy with my work, thank you." It came out a little stiff, a little forced- like the professional, mechanical relationship that she just didn't have with the Weasley twins.

"No one's testing you, you know…"

"I know," Verity nodded, finally finished with the pimple potion and recording the amount on the graph paper. "You're not that kind of boss."

Verity must have been imagining that he flinched when she said 'boss'.

"Look me and Fred totally understand. If it's quiet and you want to go home and be with your family…"

Verity snorted. Nothing to go home to really, but a group of people who were all as equally miserable as each other. Hannah was still moping and flashing angry bitter looks at their father, who was usually too drunk to notice that anyway. Constance was her usual abrasive self and nothing anyone did was ever good enough while Brookes was still far far away. Simon and her friends were hardly that much respite seeing as Simon had made it perfectly clear that his job came first every time.

And of course, there was this war. She really was quite appalling at this perspective thing.

"Honestly, I'm just glad to get away," she said.

"I understand that," breathed out George, surprising Verity by sitting on the floor next to her. "It's not so bad locking yourself in a stockroom every once in a while. Here, pass us the Spectrum Splashers and I'll join you."

She shifted over the box to George and they worked in silence, the only sounds filling the stockroom where the quill flittering back for more work, the scratching of ink on paper to record numbers and the occasional whisper that emerged from George's lips as he counted aloud.

For a moment, she allowed her eyes to drift up from a box of stock and study George's profile, her eyes drawn to a chicken pox scar just above his eyebrow, the smallest of things, but something that she was sure Fred didn't have. She hadn't noticed it before.

Looking up, George caught her eye and smiled in a way that spilt his face apart, crinkled his eyes at the corner, Verity had to force herself not to look away like she had something to be guilty about and only held his gaze and pulled a face.

"You know what? We need fuel, do you have tea and biscuits?"

"Biscuits yes- some stale custard creams upstairs I think. Teabags," he pulled a face. "We definitely don't have teabags. Not in the staff room or upstairs."

Verity pulled a disgusted face, "No teabags? Call yourself British? My dad can't even bathe properly anymore, but he still has enough sense in him to buy teabags when we need them."

"Lets just say me and Fred had an idea…involving teabags, but that after a thousand teabags and a black eye we realised that it was definitely better kept in our _heads_. But if you want to use petty cash to get some more for the staff room that's fine with me."

"I will do," said Verity firmly, still shaking her head about the lack of tea. "I'm taking a couple of sickles out of the register," she announced both to George as she left him and Fred on her way out of the shop. Cursing at the weather, she nonetheless paused to light a cigarette and, creating the shoddiest water repellent charm around herself hurried down Diagon Alley.

Rain leaking through the shield charm dripped onto her head and through her short hair before running quite uncomfortably down the back of her neck and in her rush, Verity found herself caught in a head on collision with the shoulders of two wizards.

They wore the hoods of their robes pulled up over their heads, perhaps to evade the rain water- though the overall effect was menacing. Although very tall herself, they were taller and their width and the force of the collision suggested that they were male.

"Watch where you're going, stupid bitch," said one of them gruffly, confirming the whole male thing.

"Watch how you speak to people," retorted Verity.

The man who had so kindly called her a bitch lowered his hood and Verity hissed out. He was a very thick set man, with large arms- the perfect build for a beater really and his face was an all too familiar one. Not unattractive though he wore an ugly expression, two large cauliflower ears sticking out from either side of his head.

"Long time no see, Abbott."

"Bole," said Verity crisply. "How are you?" Verity could remember Lucian Bole from her school days, an unpleasant Slytherin who didn't think much of Hufflepuffs, especially Hufflepuff chasers. He was the one who'd broken Bryn's nose in a particularly heated quidditch game- completely illegally of course, and Verity herself had received some well aimed blows to the stomach.

"Better than you, I hear," said the man beside him, also lowering his hood.

"Derrick," said Verity, putting her hands together in mock delight. "I should have known it was you! Bole never goes anywhere without his ugly girlfriend!"

"Silly half-blood cow," spat Derrick before Bole interrupted with something of a guffaw.

"I remember now!" he grinned triumphantly. "We read it in the paper. Your poor Mudblood mother."

Verity felt something in her sting very sharply as gripped her hands, digging her nails into the flesh of her palms and around those silver sickles. "You wanna be careful what you say about my Mum," said Verity in a low voice.

"Or what?" said Derrick quietly.

Shaking her head Verity tried to slip past them, "I have better things to do than waste my time on you two." But Derrick stopped her, put his hand on her chest making Verity flinch immediately and slap his huge palm off her.

"You show some respect and let purebloods pass first."

"Oh grow up."

Bole nodded at Derrick and they both pulled up their hoods. "I'd get used to this if I were you. Because once The Dark Lord has dealt with Mudblood bitches like your mother and the Blood traitor scumbags like your father there'll be a new way of doing things."

"And you'll have a whale of a time fucking your cousins to keep the line pure," called Verity as they retreated. At school, Verity had never let idiots like Bole and Derrick get to her- you get a thicker skin in the house everyone else considers to be 'full of losers' and so it sort of took her by surprise when Verity realised just how fast her heart was really beating, just how sticky her palms were and just how hard she was fighting not to cry.

_Your poor Mudblood mother. Once The Dark Lord has dealt with Mudblood bitches like your mother and Blood Traitor scumbags like your father there'll be a new way of doing things. _

Unpeeling the sickle from between her fingers she wondered if Fred and George would object to something a little bit stronger than tea.


	9. Unpicking

**Chapter eight- Unpicking ****February 1997** (Part II)

"You know, I always assumed that we'd have outgrown all this inter-house bullshit by the time we left Hogwarts," Verity pushed the box of teabags onto the counter as Fred looked up at her.

"You mean you don't spend your days off leaving flaming turds on the doorsteps of old Ravenclaws?"

"I'm thinking that might be just you, Mr Weasley," Verity sighed and ran a hand through her hair, still damp with rain water. "Bloody Slytherins, though. I had a run in just now."

"Mmm?" said Fred, though his mind was back on something in the till.

"You remember Derrick and Bole? My year at school. Big Slytherin beaters, all round nasty pieces of work?"

"Mmm."

"Well they're seriously injured now. Bole may never regain the use of his little finger."

Fred looked up now and grinned, "Pardon?"

"Well, that's more wish fulfilment than the actual truth. But I did think of several scathing comments on the way back here that they would have found _very i_nsulting."

Standing up, her boss rewarded Verity with a slow round of applause which she, of course, curtseyed gratefully to. "Quite a harsh punishment you dealt."

"They mentioned my Mum," shrugged Verity, her smile dying along with Fred's. "And…the M word. I know that not everyone in Slytherin is a Death Eater, but Gods it'd make it way easier hating them if they were."

"….oh," said Fred rather helpfully. Before she could get to moping again, dwelling on the stick palms and beating heart that she'd experienced earlier, Verity slammed the remaining coins of petty cash onto the counter which certainly served to shock Fred out of the perceived awkwardness of 'grief' and 'feelings'

"So I decided, Mr Weasley, that I would take up your offer. And moreover, I think you and George should close up and come with me."

"Pub?"

"Pub. Forget about this keep calm and carry on stuff. I'm sick of that. I want to get scared and get pissed. Where's George?"

"Locked in the stockroom. I don't even think he's noticed yet."

It was the kind of thing that would make Simon wince in horror; aiming specifically to get drunk with your bosses. But then again, Simon's bosses were scary hard faced officials in a department of 'mysteries' who had a reputation for making people disappear while Verity's bosses were the Weasley twins. Fred could handle firewhiskey in a very admirable way. He'd probably get on well with Verity's father.

Fred had relented and let George out after all (he had noticed that he'd been locked in as it so happened) so the three of them piled into The Leaky Cauldron, which was reasonably empty considering the time of day and, despite the time of day, Verity proceeded to order a couple of large glasses of red wine.

"How about this? I've been thinking about the Daydream Charms- we could probably expand the range," said George.

"A pornographic range? Sexy daydreams? I was thinking exactly the same."

"Well no actually," grinned George as Verity sniggered into her wine glass. "I was thinking something totally not like that."

"No. No, I'm your twin. We were definitely thinking the same thing."

"He's got you there; you _do_ have that telepathy thing going for you."

"Does that mean you'll be starring in them?" said Fred wickedly to Verity and it was George's turn to snigger into his drink.

"On my wages? I don't think so. That kind of thing warrants a promotion."

There was a significant exchange of glances between the twins and Verity wasn't sure that she liked where this was going.

When Fred said, a lot more soberly than he was, "actually Verity, we need to talk to you about that." Verity realized that she definitely didn't like where this was going.

Gripping her wine glass, Verity breathed in her cigarette and braced herself. This was surely the start of the '_we're sorry but we're going to have to let you go'_ speech she'd been anticipating all month.

"Look, before you start. I really love it at the shop," said Verity desperately. "I can't imagine working anywhere else. I know things have been slow and if you want to give me a pay cut, I'll understand- I'll work longer hours for less and I'll think of everything I can to get you guys more customers and then I'll be the best saleswoman ever…just please, please don't fire me."

George was grinning at her when she finally paused to take a breath.

"Who's firing you? Maybe we lay off the wine now, Verity."

"It's the opposite actually," added Fred. "Me and George have been thinking and we reckon it was about time that you got a bit more to do around the shop."

"Say if we can't work on a certain day," George added, somewhat suspiciously. "We're looking into expansion which means more time away from the place and for longer. So we'd like to give you your own set of keys."

"And a promotion."

"In name more than in salary really- so don't go shopping for a holiday home in Majorca or anything," warned George obviously noticing the large grin that spread over Verity's face. But Verity wasn't interested in the money- obviously she hadn't gone into retail hoping to earn buckets and buckets of gold. She was still swimming in the welcome relief of knowing she wasn't about to lose her job.

"So…what do you say?"

"Do I get a new title on my name badge?"

"What's wrong with Verity? I suppose we could start calling you Geoff or Albert or something if you really wanted us to."

"I meant something more along the lines of 'Verity Abbott: Shop Supervisor.' Or 'Verity Abbott: Trainee Manager' I like that one."

"Verity Abbott: Pushing it a bit too far now."

Smiling sheepishly, Verity stretched her arms out in front of her as pins and needles from sitting down on a sofa began to threaten her limbs before clapping her hands together.

"I think I'll get the next round on me to celebrate. Well, technically since you pay me- it's your money anyway. But you know what I mean."

She stood up quickly, knocking over Fred's pint glass as she went, the last dregs of his beer fanning out onto the table and slowly dripping off the sides. Odd that she didn't feel _that_ drunk; Verity put it down to excitement.

It was though she had been sentenced to death, acquitted at the very moment she'd placed her neck under the guillotine and then been handed a puppy.

There weren't many people smiling in the pub, obviously, given the mood of the nation. And yet, Verity approached the bar with a huge grin stretching over her face- poor Tom must have been a bit startled by that. But she paid for the drinks and was about to bring them to the Weasley twins when she spotted the familiar figures of Justine and Bryn.

Justine was dressed in a pretty skirt and her work robes, Bryn had made a half attempt at looking respectable though there was dried porridge on his robes and he was wearing battered trainers. Sticking her hand in the air, Verity waved them over to the bar.

"Hello," she grinned, throwing an arm around Bryn's tree trunk of a waist. "You joining me for a drink?"

"Verity, it's about three o'clock on a Tuesday afternoon," sighed Justine, but it was a sigh laced with fondness for her old friend. "Aren't you meant to be working anyway?"

"I am," said Verity, indicating over to Fred and George who both raised hands to Verity's fellow Hufflepuffs. "I got a promotion."

Justine smiled and gave Verity a hug while Bryn grinned, saying "Good for you, Vez." She accepted the hug and the compliments but couldn't help but feel slightly inferior all the same.

When she got a promotion it was as 'supervisor' and meant essentially the same thing as being an employee. It wasn't nearly as impressive as Justine getting a promotion at Gringotts where she worked as a secretary or Simon being promoted.

Bryn at least was self employed, which meant that the sight of Verity's old friend was a little hard to take in. As a builder, specialising in magical constructions, he had very little need to dress smartly and was easily identifiable by the muggle clothes he adopted when on the hunt for his latest muggle conquests.

"Why the hell are you in a suit?" Verity observed, wrinkling her nose up at Bryn. "Did you have to be in court or something?"

"Worse," said Bryn grimly. "My Dad wanted to have lunch with me."

Verity pulled a sympathetic grimace. That Bryn's father was an old purist bastard was no secret- Bryn complained about him as often as he could and the times that she'd met him he'd been the sort of stealth racist who could seem perfectly pleasant at first and then, upon questioning you about you blood status, turn almost intolerably rude. His whole family had that going for them really.

"See now, you _need _a drink. How did that go?"

"It was actually really weird," conceded Bryn as he leaned against the bar. "Dad was all formal and cryptic. Started saying that he hoped I was acting _prudently_ in these difficult times. Not cavorting with the wrong sort."

"You mean Death Eaters?" said Justine with a frown. "As if you would!"

"No," said Bryn darkly. "No he definitely did not mean Death Eaters. The opposite actually." Sipping the butterbeer that was presented to him and shuddering he continued. "Dad is concerned that I've been mixing with mudbloods and blood traitors. I _think_ he's looking out for me, in that own bloody twisted way of his."

"And presumably you didn't tell him about all of your muggle girls?"

"Oh no I did," said Bryn cheerfully.

"Oh no_ Bryn_," Justine put a hand to her temple and suppressed a little smile. "How did he take that?"

"Better than I expected actually. To him it just confirmed all suspicions that I am mentally deficient and need to be assisted when using the toilet and other things. He gave me a galleon, paid for lunch and told me not to be such a dumb shit. Pretty standard, actually."

"So you're not going to stop cavorting with mudbloods and blood traitors?" said Verity stiffly. It took her by surprise how humourless she sounded, but Verity could hardly help it, hearing about Bryn's father just cemented a niggling negative feeling that meeting with Derrick and Bole had brought up.

On the surface, it seemed as though Death Eaters and Voldemort were in the minority- but what if they weren't? What if these deep rooted prejudices lay dormant in most wizards? One of the few hopes that had been pulling Verity through these dark times was that the wizarding community wouldn't have tolerated the out and out persecution of muggleborns. But what if they did?

Where did that leave Simon? Or her father the blood traitor? Or all the other muggleborns she knew. Surely people wouldn't just stand by and accept what was going on?

Justine made her excuses and left, but Bryn stayed with her- and Verity didn't blame him. Jed Abbott was, to put it kindly, not the easiest person to live with at the moment but it was understandable and he had made up for it with a lifetime of generally good parenting- not like Bryn's parents so Verity could sort of see where her friend was coming from.

They found common ground with the Weasley twins easily enough, all being members of house quidditch teams at around the same time. Fred and George had served as beaters and played several matches against Bryn, Justine and Verity who served as Hufflepuff chasers for a good part of their school career.

Put a two Hufflepuff players and two Gryffindor players together and of course it was inevitable that the hotly contested 'Victory by Dementor' match would come up. It had happened in Verity's sixth year and everyone knew the story- Harry Potter and his little fainting spell, Cedric catching the snitch.

Which of course meant that Cedric Diggory became fresh in everyone's mind.

"I still can't believe that the ministry covered it up. Or at least that was what I took from all the reports. First it was a 'tragic accident' and then it was 'Voldemort'- a whole _year_ after his death," said Verity bitterly. "I _liked _Cedric."

"It's frightening, the people in charge of the country can just lie to us like that. I didn't even think they were capable of it."

"Two words," said George with a grim smile. "Dolores Umbridge."

"That bitch," added Verity more savagely than she thought she was capable of. That was definitely the wine. "Hannah told me about her."

"I have to say though," said Bryn solemnly to the twins. "When I heard about what you two had done- I wanted to shake your hands. Best graduation from Hogwarts ever. They'll have to put you two in the next edition of _Hogwarts: a history_ for sure."

"We do our best," said George with mock humility.

"And, well, it was our best marketing strategy to date."

"Well in that sense I guess I have to be grateful for Dolores Umbridge," grinned Verity.

"You what?"

"I mean, when you two first set up shop in Diagon Alley I was on my way to an interview for St Mungo's. As a _cleaner_," she pulled a face. "If it wasn't for Umbridge; I would be scrubbing bed pans right now."

"Well that's a toast if I ever heard one," grinned Fred. "To not having to scrub bed-pans."

"To not having to scrub bed pans," said everyone assembled, lifting their glasses into the air.

It was at half past five that the group of Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors decided to quit the pub. Fred and George were kind enough to invite Verity back to theirs for a spot of dinner and some more in depth conversation about the merits of the Chudley Canons versus the Montrose Magpies. Bryn declined this invitation, in part due to a job in Manchester that required an early start in the morning.

As she did so, Verity felt herself staggering on her feet from the drinks. Bryn caught her by the waist but it was George who she clung onto.

"What a mess," said Bryn fondly, speaking about Verity.

"The sorting hat needs to add a trait about Hufflepuffs I think: massive bunch of winos," said George.

It was of course at this point that Simon entered the pub, on his way back from work. The sheer timing of the situation did nothing to deliver Verity of the fit of laughter that she was suffering from as she guessed that he would be mortified.

As predicted, his face did not exactly echo the joys of spring.

Removing herself from the grip of both Bryn and George, Verity smiled drunkenly at her boyfriend.

"You off work then?" Simon was looking from Verity to George, to Fred, to Bryn and she could almost guess the inner workings of his brain and so she piled on the cheeriness. "Good day? No particularly tricky numbers?"

Simon didn't say anything. He just headed out of the pub. With an apologetic look at her friends, Verity mumbled that she had to go and walked after Simon and out of the Leaky Cauldron.

It was still unpleasant out and, wary of the dangers of being on a Muggle Street, Verity had to let the rain soak her clothes and face. Simon had come equipped and as he paused to open up his umbrella he said coldly. "Go back inside Verity."

"If this is because you're jealous or something then you can shut up," said Verity with a stab at a cheeky smile.

"No Verity actually," said Simon looking at her with something vaguely like pity. "More like the fact that it's five thirty…and you're drunk and quite obviously causing a scene."

"I got a promotion actually, we were celebrating."

Simon sighed and stepped closer to her, allowing her to take the shelter from under his umbrella.

"That's great," he said with a little bit of a twitch in his jaw.

"I thought so," said Verity with a shrug.

"It _is," _with an expression that suggested that this was very much against his better judgement, Simon wrapped his arms around Verity and without thinking; she automatically leaned into his chest. "And that's why you were drinking?"

"Partially," mumbled Verity. "It's not a big deal."

"No, no it's not," said Simon and he kissed her. "But, you will talk to me? If something is bothering you. Not just Fred and George."

Verity pulled away and laughed lightly at him. "Don't be an idiot, Simon." Simon laughed back. But for the first time Verity noticed that it didn't quite extend to his eyes.


	10. Tal y Cafn

**Chapter nine- Tal y Cafn (****March 1997) Part 1**

Hand on the plate glass of the window, Verity watched as they passed from England into Wales.

The enchanted road map she'd picked up from a bookshop in Diagon Alley lay open on her lap, a small dot showed them the route that they ought to be taking and Verity traced the winding lanes of the motorway with her fingers.

"Muggles did all this!" said Verity looking outside. "They're a clever bunch, all things considered aren't they?"

"That's vaguely patronising," said Simon, his dark brow furrowed and his mouth in a very set frown. Verity slumped back into the chair and turned around to look at Hannah, who was nestled into the back and playing with the safety belt- seeing how far she could pull it and watching it snap back.

Upon further inspection she noticed that her little sister had taken on a distinctly peaky look- her face grey and her lips dry and cracked.

"You okay, Hans?"

Hannah nodded woozily. "It's like the Hogwarts express isn't it? Only smaller," Simon switched lanes sharply and Hannah was jerked sideways with a little 'oof', "And a bit more…movey."

"Do you think you might be able to go a little slower?" asked Verity turning to Simon who shook his head irritably.

"We're already going bloody slow." Outside of the window, an old woman in a box car outstripped them by miles. "Sorry, but if we go any slower then the police might actually pull us over."

"Hannah isn't feeling too good," said Verity softly.

"Travel sickness," said Simon, "Look Hannah, just keep staring right ahead at a fixed point and try not to think about it okay?"

Hannah nodded and scrunched up her face as she looked at the horizon, which seemed to suggest that this motorway thing was never ending. Verity was fascinated to say the least- with the motor way and also the car radio, fiddling between static and music with interest. Simon finally broke his ill mood and declared that it was like driving with 'bloody children'.

It took far longer than Verity had expected. They passed through Wales after a stop at a Muggle service station for lunch and so Simon could fill up the car with 'Petril' and finally they were in a hair's breadth of the place where this house was supposed to be.

A road sign announced 'Tal y Cafn' and either sides of the narrow road were thickets and bracken, the low lying land running next to a large lake. The wild daffodils poked through the mist and Verity got the impression that it would be an awfully lovely place, where the fog not so thick on the ground for this time of year.

"Grandad said you have to go past the pub, the house is called The Sett," Hannah said, unpeeling herself from the car window where she had been resting her head. The Dog and Duck was a typical country muggle pub, with buttermilk coloured walls on the outside, the letters of it's name in gold and greenery in the window boxes.

"Are you sure?" frowned Simon, as he drove past the pub. There was nothing but fields and more fog, he craned his head to see if he could see any such house poking through the fog as the road reached a dead end.

"Stop here then," said Hannah, not looking nearly so worried as Simon.

"Don't tell me I drove four and a half hours for a made up place," he said bitterly, put he pulled the car into the car park of The Dog and Duck. Outside, the cold Welsh air was downright savage as it nipped at them, the sky a melancholic sort of grey and the lights from the pub a dim yellow amid the fog, she pulled her jacket around her and looked around. Simon joined her, the scepticism written quite clearly on his dark face.

"Well I can't see anything," he announced to the cold air. Leaning on the car he slammed it shut with some vigour and, while muttering angrily to himself he pulled out a cigarette and lit it. "What the hell do you propose we do now?"

Verity smiled and let out a breathy laugh before plucking the lit cigarette from between his fingers and taking a quick toke. "Simon, how long have you been a wizard?" Hannah smiled at him too, which made Simon's frown that little bit deeper.

"What's that got to do with anything?"

"Well, then maybe you should remember that things aren't always what they appear," said Verity with a little knowing smile.

Of course, in truth, Verity herself was a little bit baffled at why they couldn't see The Sett, but there were so many things in the world she'd grown up in designed to fool the eye and trick the senses- it made sense that this place would simply be another one of them. And if Hannah wasn't worried then Verity wasn't going to be either.

Simon breathed out heavily and shook his head. "More cryptic bullshit."

"I'd have thought that you'd love all of that. Working in the department of mysteries and everything. You reckon we should ask in the pub?"

"Wouldn't hurt," shrugged Hannah. "I mean, it could work like Diagon Alley."

Simon shook his head, "No. No, you're forgetting that this is quite clearly a _muggle_ pub. With muggles in it. We'll just get looked at funny."

"We'd get looked at funny with that ugly face of yours whatever happened," teased Verity twining her fingers between Simon's. "Come on."

The interior of the pub was cosy and warm, red carpets with gold swirling shapes lined the floors and frayed at the edge of the doors when they walked in, suggesting that it had been well trodden over the years. The walls were adorned with varies black and white (totally unmoving) pictures of the country side which clearly hadn't changed much over a hundred years, along with an odd array of stuffed squirrels arranged into positions on mantles and on dead bits of wood.

Behind the bar, pulling a large pint of bitter was a lean elderly man, the clear plastic spectles he wore were like thick milk bottles making his eyes look disconcertingly large while wispy grey hairs congregated in odd spaces about his face, around the sides of his head and also into large whiskery side burns and a very think, almost pathetic pencilly moustache. Simon was right though, he looked very Muggle- he wore an England football t-shirt over his longsleeved undershirt and fretted over the money that a punter handled him with a few solemn words that Verity couldn't hear.

But Hannah, of course, had gotten it into her head that she was going to find this place tonight and the small problem of being shouted at by a strange welsh muggle was of no consequence to her, she was at the bar before Verity had time to blink and trail after her, Simon following.

"You haff I.d?" said the barman when he saw them, his eyes on Hannah who with her round pretty face of course did not look eighteen. Nestled in between the Welsh accent was the stirrings of something possibly eastern European, Russian maybe.

"Um, no," said Hannah, a little confused.

"No one under eighteen at the bloody bar," he said gruffly, with a jerk of his thumb. "Hop eet."

Hannah turned to Verity, "I don't…what do we do?"

Simon sighed and looked at them, "I knew this was stupid. I'll get some drinks and we can figure out what we do next okay?" he flashed his driving licence casually at the barman. "Do you want a coke or something Hannah?"

"Huh?"

"It's a muggle fizzy drink," said Verity before Simon hissed a savage 'shh' at them. The elderly pub landlord was still looking at them with his large round eyes and Verity was sure that was some rule that she'd broken. Simon ordered a coke for Hannah, a beer for himself and a glass of wine for Verity.

As he poured her a glass, Verity felt those strange eyes almost scanning her with some kind of x-ray vision and when he was given his money (Simon was clever enough to have brought a bit of muggle currency with him, ) the old man said to Simon, "It has been a long time since any of your lot has come in here, boy."

"Yes well," said Simon stiffly, with an odd expression like he was fighting not to punch the old man "I'm from London. Not stopping." And stalking off to a table at the far end of the pub he slumped in his chair mumbling, "Racist old git," under his breath.

"He probably just meant English people."

Hannah was oogling her coke after taking the first sip.

"What…flavour is this supposed to be?"

"It's…" Simon shrugged, "It's coke flavour. Look we might as well go on to the hotel, it's getting dark."

"But we haven't found The Sett yet," said Hannah looking at Verity with a heartbroken expression. "Verity, Granddad said it would be here!"

Verity placed a finger on her temples and sighed, wondering how on earth she could phrase Shadrach Abbott's tendency to exaggerate into something that wouldn't utterly crush her little sister. "Hannah…Granddad can sometimes…" but in an act of mercy her words were cut short by the reappearance of the barkeep that Simon had so taken to.

"We're alright here, mate," said Simon holding up his glass to signify that he wasn't finished, he took Verity's hand and the grip was oddly tight.

"I said before," he said, ignoring Simon's voice and speaking in hushed tones. "It has been a very long time since I have seen your sort."

"Yes well, don't worry we won't be long. I'd just like to finish the drink I paid for," snapped Simon and Verity flashed him a warning look.

"I do not like your tone, sonny," sniffed the bar tender.

"Well I don't like yours," countered Simon. "Your _sort_? You think I don't know what that means?"

"Vat?" said the man sharply, his accent more discernable now. "I see the bloody vand in your back pocket and I hear you speak of muggles. I am not mistaken on these things, no?"

Simon blinked, clearly knocked for six while Hannah exchanged a triumphant, hopeful sort of look with Verity and leaned forward excitedly. "No, you aren't mistaken. Are you…too?"

"I am a squib, I have vorked in this bloody pub for almost sixty years," he said with an element of pride. "But I see you and I can spot it a mile off."

Hannah beamed and looked at him, her eyes very wide and serious. "We're looking for a place called The Sett. My name is Hannah Abbott and my Granddad said.."

And before she could say another word the old man had dropped to his knees, a rather frightening feat considering that he was a very elderly sort and very doddery, crying out "_Moja Słoneczko__! __Moja Słoneczko!" _in one shaky, leathery and liver spotted hand he took Hannah's and grazed his thin, dry lips to it.

"Do you think he knows then?" said Verity to Simon.

"I'd say so."

Hannah pulled a chair for the old man who hauled himself up with some effort into the sitting position, still holding Hannah's hand in his own bird like gnarled claw.

"Vester Abbott is your grandmother?"

"My great aunt," said Hannah shyly.

"Ah. Yes. You must drink with me! I have some of the finest wodka," he went to stand but Hannah stopped him, which was all just as well seeing as how Verity wasn't sure how much excitement and jumping around this rather frail man could take. "My name is Jan Dabrowski."

"Mr. Dabrowski, out of interest, how do you know her?" Verity added and the old man looked at her too.

"This is your sister?" he said to Hannah, who nodded. "Yes, I see it. You look most like her, Moja Słoneczko, such a pretty kind face, but this one…I see Vester's chin. Please, call me Jan."

Poor Vester; her chin was rather mannish to say the least.

"I vas a squib in Poland, sixteen years old. My father gets me a job as a cleaner for their ministry and then bloody Grindlwald comes to my country with his army. He killed many muggles and wizards. And they came for my father, put him in Nurmengard and all I can think is that they will do the same to my mother and my sisters and I can do nothing to protect them. But friends say, they will help me- that they know someone who is taking the vizards out of Europe and bringing them here. Your aunt Vester. She takes us here and into her home." He laughed triumphantly. "And my mother and my sisters are not scared any more and we are safe."

"And you've stayed here ever since," said Hannah with a dangerous, romantic sort of look on her face.

"I married a local girl- her father ran this pub in those days and, poor thing she had no way of knowing that I am of magical blood until our first born son, my Marek, uses his magic to make our cat bald!"

"She must have been an amazing woman," said Hannah dreamily and Jan nodded emphatically. Verity placed a hand to her forehead and sighed, as if Hannah needed any more daft ideas put into her head. Bloody Granddad Shadrach.

"It isn't still here, is it? The house?"

Jan nodded again. "No one has lived here for years. But it's still here. In fact," he stood up and Verity could imagine his bones creaking from the groan he elicited. "She asked me to feed the cats vhen she is too sick to do it herself. I have key." He hobbled over to the bar and went into the backroom, fishing around in it for some time as Verity and Simon exchanged looks.

"Well this is a spot of luck isn't it?" said Simon.

"Yes."

"And he seems nice doesn't he?"

"Yes."

"And he's going to give us the keys, just like that, with only a name to go on?"

"Simon, it's an old woman's house for god's sake, Jan is just being hospitable. And you're always on at _me_ for being paranoid."

"I'm just saying," said Simon innocently. "And I know that you're as skeptical as I am."

"Hannah's happy and that's all I care about," snapped Verity.

Her little sister was indeed happy as she took the keys from Jan with the air of one being presented with a gilded trophy. Jan pointed them outside and into the beer garden which was empty due to the fog and the light spittle of rain that had begun to fall. A sad plastic chidren's play set which had seen better days was sat abandoned and mossy at the bottom and running around it was a high brick wall. Nothing much to look at, only when Verity's eyes returned to the wall a second time there was a large black door in it.

"That wasn't there before was it?"

"Nope," said Simon. "Which definitely means we're meant to go through it."

"I _told_ you it was just past the pub," grinned Hannah. As they approached the door, Verity noted that it was set in iron and cool to the touch, though there were animals and shapes in it. She traced the shapes and the door creaked open very slowly.

On the other side of the wall was more greenery, though it was overgrown and the fog that spilled out was very thick indeed. Verity felt something rather ominous in the cool air of the fog but Hannah was through it before Verity had time to voice her concerns and if Hannah went through then Verity had to follow.

Once Simon had gone through, the door shut and was gone. The fog all around them grew thicker still, it almost seemed to block out the sky.

But it was there, she could make it out. The house- not to far from them, a pretty cottage the color of buttercups surrounded by a white picket fence, too bright and cheerful when surrounded by so much fog. There were weeds and thorns at her feet and something like disappointment coursed through her.

Maybe she'd expected a bit more from Vester's house, something more like hope in these dark times. That was kind of what this house had become to her and Hannah, the hope that someone could come through a darker time such as Grindlewald's Britain with the courage and the light to safe people. The darkness surrounding them only seemed thicker now.

"Well, we should go in I suppose," said Simon with the same sort of disappointed look that Verity felt when they reached the front gate.

"Why?" said a voice from behind them. A sad, heartbroken little voice from somewhere in the fog. "What's the point?"

"Hannah?" said Verity, straining her eyes in all the fog. Taking her wand out of the muggle bag she'd hidden it in, Verity cast lumos and was able to locate Hannah, sitting on the grass and leaning against the picket fence, her arms gripping around her knees. "Hannah what's wrong?"

"Why are we here, Vez?" choked Hannah softly. "So Aunt Vester managed to save a few lives- no one saved our Mum." She let out a dry sob and Verity felt something squeezing on her heart. She didn't want to see Hannah like this, it was like all the light was draining out of her and in turn Verity. Hannah was her baby sister and yes, their mother was dead.

"She was alone," said Hannah in a whisper. "The last time I saw her she was waving me goodbye and I'll never see her again."

Verity wanted to tell her that they would talk about it at the hotel, that now wasn't the time. But when would be a good time? Sinking to her knees besides Hannah, Verity tucked her head into her little sisters shoulder. The last time Verity had seen her mother was the morning before her death, at breakfast, Verity had rushed in late for work and grabbed some toast and hurried out a goodbye. The last goodbye. She should have made it last longer, made it better. And then she was dead. Verity could hear it, that auror, the sound of her father crying.

_Miss Abbott, earlier this morning- your mother was found. Healers were called to attend to her but it was too late, she was pronounced dead at the scene- we believe it was the killing curse._

Verity gripped hard onto Hannah, but she could hardly feel her beneath her fingers. There was nothing but the fog surrounding her, surrounding her brain and Verity didn't feel as though she could ever be happy again.

"Verity! Verity get up," a voice was shouting in her ear, pulling at her and tugging desperately. But what was the point? Everything was going to die, this stupid war would kill them all. "Verity you have to get up. I think it's Dementors."

Simon was pulling her up and forcing her wand in her hand. It did nothing to take away the strange sinking feeling in her gut or the words of that auror on the worst day of her life but she gripped it and gripped on to Simon. He ducked down to Hannah too, and forced her to clamp around her own wand.

They came out of the darkness then, two Dementors- she remembered her sixth year at Hogwarts, when they came for Sirius black and the sadness. But it hadn't been like this then. She hadn't been grieving too. She felt as though her insides had all been shrunken done and shriveled up.

They were going to suck all of the life right out of her.

Verity looked at her boyfriend, all the hope had abandoned her and she couldn't even be frightened , "I can't do this, Simon, I've never done a patronus properly and look at Hannah."

"Try!" said Simon desperately, "Think of something happy for fuck's sake!"

Verity lifted her wand and looked at Hannah, who wasn't moving, her wand down at her side as she stared ahead at those cloaked figures with a blank sort of acceptance.

Making salt dough with Mum. Kissing Simon for the first time. Getting her job with the Weasleys and winning her first Quidditch match, she tried to bring them all to the surface trembling as she shouted 'Expecto Patronum!" there were a few feathers emitted from her wand, ethereal and pathetic and then there was nothing.

They were so close now, Simon was trying as hard as he could; he was a talented wizard, far more so than Verity, but the strength of two dementors was too much for him to make anything near strong enough to drive them both away. The silvery owl that swam out of his wand was keeping them back for a short while before it disappeared completely. They needed Hannah too, at least, but she was lost in the grief that the Dementors were forcing her to face up to.

Verity was at her side again and shaking her, "Hannah please, Hannah." It wouldn't be long now before the whole world turned black.


	11. The Door to Nowhere

**Chapter ten- The Door to Nowhere (March 1997) Part II**

With the feeling of all of the blood in her body rushing to her head, and her heart in her throat, Verity dropped to Hannah's level and clasped her hand around her sister's so she grasped tightly onto her wand.

"Come on, Hans," she murmured feverishly, not looking ahead, not trusting herself to acknowledge the dementors fully. "Expecto patronum, you can do it." A happy memory, that was all she had to do. It was all she could do really, standing beside her sister as she was trying to force something happy, some shared memory from their childhood.

It was either that or simply roll over let the dementors suck out their souls right then and there.

"Do you remember when you turned six," Verity said quietly, something of a little tremble in her voice "When D-dad bought you that doll's house. It took him a week to put the bloody thing together and then the minute he did he stood up and tripped over onto it. Remember that?" Hannah nodded nervously and tried to force a week laugh. Verity was certainly grateful for that and she nodded, "Just look at me."

"Not the time for a conversation," said Simon desperately, still flicking his wand at Dementors. "_Verity!_" They would be starting to affect him more too now, replaying his worst memory.

"Just look at me Hannah," Verity repeated, as calm as she could manage. "Hannah. Me and you and Mum making salt dough. We were so happy weren't we? Just…just think of that _please_." Slowly, desperately, Verity prayed that her sister's resolved nod was real and not some desperate facet of her imagination playing tricks on her.

" Expecto Patronum. Say it with me." Hannah shifted and sat up properly, not so hunched any more, hopefully there was something happy in her mind. In a show of solidarity, Verity willed herself to think of the happy thing too, as she gripped Hannah's hand on the wand.

She willed herself to really smell the salt dough, Joy Abbott's perfume; something citrusy or earthy, she could never abide the stereotypical mumsy scents of flowers and what not. Verity shut her eyes and smelled lemon zest injected into a warm hug- the older she got, the further she had to bend down to reach her mother as slowly Verity began to overtake Joy in size.

She held on to that, tight as she could like a pearl clasped around an oyster.

"EXPECTO PATRONUM!" the two sisters shouted in unison and the light that was emitted from Hannah's wand could have almost been like all of the stars in the sky being visible to Verity, she was that relieved.

Hannah's polecat patronus squirreled its way through the dementors and when Simon's owl patronus joined it, the shadowy figures began to retreat.

It struck Verity as almost disgusting, the way that they callously left in a silent gliding. They wouldn't suck their souls tonight, but the dementors hardly cared, there were other meals out there. The hospitals were filled with catatonic muggles if the wizarding wireless broadcasts were to be believed. The white fog that had filled her, seemed to be trying to force its way out of her throat, like vomit. But it subsided. And she could move her head, her hands and stop clutching at Hannah like she was drowning.

Bowing her head and feeling a fog in her brain begin to clear, Verity let out a faint and very nervous burst of laughter, the grass between her fingers wet and dewy the hand that she used to prop herself up, muddy like the knees of her jeans. Simon still stood, his wand raised ahead and a frown heavy on his face.

"You alright?" he called to the girls on the ground while Verity could only envy how quickly he managed to regain his composure. Hannah herself had tears in her eyes, while Verity made sure to wipe her own face very severely- that sort of thing wouldn't do at all.

"Fine," she said with a shaky smile. "Fine. Thank merlin Hannah managed to pull out that patronus." She smiled at Hannah, who was still very white, her light grey eyes looking very glazed as though she was hastily retreating into some sad corner of her mind. It was as though the dementors hadn't actually gone, to look at Hannah's face.

"It was a joint effort," said Hannah in little more than a whisper, her blonde hair falling into her face as she hid behind a wave of it while pulling her knees in to her chest. "This really was a bloody stupid idea, wasn't it? We really _shouldn't_ have come."

"Don't start," Verity warned. "Or I'll assume the bloody dementors are back."

"He knew they were here," growled Simon when Verity heaved herself up and curled her hand around his arm.

"Who?"

"That Jan guy," he said, looking over at the stone wall. "He _had_ to have felt them. Even if you can't see dementors, there isn't any ignoring when they are around. And he was really quite keen to make sure we got the key."

"You don't think in there is safe either?" Verity looked back at the yellow house through the clearing fog, the dirty windows and twirling weeds more ominous now that her heart fluttered in the leftover fear of the dementor attack.

"It's your call," Simon shrugged and Verity had hoped he wouldn't say that- putting the decision on her, any potential blame on her shoulders. "I'm just the driver."

He put his wand away finally, into the pocket of his baggy jeans and looked back at the old house with a heavy exhaling of breath, Verity imagined he'd been holding it ever since the dementors had come. She didn't want to be out here in the open like this, though the house didn't feel all that much better. Really, this whole thing had made her ache for home and her father. For her mother more though, but there was no use continuing down that line.

"We'll go in," she nodded finally, reluctantly. The danger didn't make any of this more exciting, it didn't feel like the house had some kind of secret it was desperate to hide, it didn't feel like everything would all be worth it in the end. In fact every element of self preservation in her body seemed to scream that she was doing this all wrong. But there was the tricky issue of Hannah, who had, facing facts managed to save them all. It was Hannah who made her say, "Otherwise this has all been for nothing."

Hannah trailed behind her as they walked up to the house; the white picket fence that had appeared cheerful from a distance was cracked and flaking in places to reveal the damp rotting wood underneath while the gate itself was stiff and needed to be forced open.

Verity could still see cloaked figures in her mind's eye. She'd heard that the dementors had left Azkaban, a revolt to join Voldemort who could provide them with more souls but why had they come to a small village in Wales? How many more of them were there out there?

She really needed to learn that bloody patronus charm, standing beside Hannah and feeding her happy memories wasn't going to be able to cut it.

Well at least Jan hadn't lied about the key. It fit snugly into an embellished iron key hole and turned with ease, a faint click of a few locks undoing heard from that wooden door. Pulling her wand out again, just in case- as if that was going to do any good- Verity pushed the door open. The smell of dust and stale mothballs greeted her as well as the darkness. She stepped inside.

The floor was bare, wooden and dust had piled and drifted all along the surface, the large window at the end of the hall draped casually with a half hanging curtain, letting a small stream of light filter through. Verity stepped in and followed the path of the light- more out of instinct than anything.

"No dragons about," she said in hushed tones. To speak quietly seemed appropriate, as though this were a tomb.

Hannah was behind her, stepping lightly into another room- the door was not shut and must have one windy day fallen open. Here, the furnishing was one she might have expected- a cold living room musky with mothballs, but the carpeting was lush and a rich royal blue, the walls a neat yellow wall papering that had unfortunately given way to dust. Most of Vester's possessions had been cleared away and the room seemed a lonely place.

"I think this place is a fixer upper."

"You're not shopping are you?" said Simon, who poked the bookshelf with his wand, flicking aside a large dead beetle who had decided that this was as good a final resting place as any. "Just searching for revolving bookcases and fireplaces. Clearly not an evil mastermind, your aunt."

"You'll be laughing out the wrong side of your face once we stumble upon Vester's secret potions lab," said Verity. "And the remains all of her warped animal experiments."

"Oh don't," said Hannah, pulling a face. "That's disgusting. But maybe there is _something._" She put her hand to her head. "I should have asked Jan how she got everyone out when she did."

"You could always ask him on the way out, he likes you at least."

"Except the part where he set the dementors on us," sniffed Simon.

"But aside from that, he was a sterling bloke."

Hannah was still frowning around the living room, "They couldn't have just apparated here. All the way from Germany? Jan said he was a squib."

"Side along apparition?" suggested Verity.

Simon shook his head, "Not from Germany. Not if she wanted people to keep the use of their limbs. The further it is, the harder it gets."

"And I have difficulty apparating up the stairs, let alone across the English Channel," Verity conceded. "A portkey then?"

"I thought that," said Hannah excitedly. "Maybe she still has it?"

"It would have been an illegal portkey," Simon added, now brushing off the dust from the bookshelf. "You need the ministry of magic from both sets of countries for an international portkey like that. And there's no way to keep _that _kind of thing a secret."

"I don't see a problem breaking the law if it's the right thing to do," said Hannah very firmly ( maybe Verity imagined the way that Simon raised his eyebrows just a little bit at this) but then she sighed. "There's nothing in here is there? I'm going to look in another room. You should take somewhere else, we'll get more done in less time that way." Hannah looked at them, suddenly very sternly as though she had practised channelling professor McGonagall in her spare time.

Simon watched her leave and chuckled lightly, "She runs an efficient needle in haystack search party, does your sister." He at least seemed in marginally better spirits than earlier on as he rolled a cigarette but as he lit it and put it to his mouth; he gave an audible and very physical shudder.

"That was too fucking close back there, Vez," he said gravely.

"We're all still here," was all Verity could think to say. Simon couldn't be worried only now that they were in danger, a dementor didn't make this whole thing real. Being told your mother had been murdered for being a muggle born- that was the kind of thing that made this war feel real.

"But…this. It feels like such an unnecessary risk."

"It's necessary for my sister, okay?" Verity said firmly. "And unless you want to round up every dementor in the country it's something we might as well get used to. Just living our lives is a risk right now. You did hear about this you-know-who guy, didn't you? Or is this breaking news?" she snapped, a little quiver in her voice. "You don't get to lecture me about taking risks, _you_ of all people."

Simon put a hand to his forehead and gave a bitter laugh, "The job thing. Bloody hell, when did you get to sound like such a fucking broken record?"

"A broken _what_?" Verity blinked as his simile travelled all the way over her head.

"I'm being careful. What we're doing out here in the arse of nowhere is not being careful."

"And my Mum wasn't? They killed her because she was being stupid and careless," Verity swallowed, trying to push down the lump in her throat as she trembled in a low voice. "I heard it. When the dementor came, I heard the auror telling me she'd died, you bloody idiot. And you can bet your arse that's what Hannah heard too. And not just then either…I hear it all the time." Verity shoved her thumbnail into her mouth and began to chew it savagely while she couldn't trust herself to speak. She looked at Simon who seemed at a loss, and realised that if she wanted reassurance she could damn well look elsewhere.

"I'm going to look in the kitchen," she said finally.

"You don't even know what you're looking for!" Simon retaliated, both angry and incredulous.

"Well, whatever it is I'm pretty sure I'm not going to bloody find it in here," Verity added hotly as she stalked out of the room and into the hall. Not sure why, but feeling as though it had to be done, Verity made sure to slam the door on her way out- making the poor house groan even more. Muttering her old favourite '_Reducto_' at a portion of the skirting board, Verity watched as a blast zone around the size of her fist shattered the drywall.

Verity had to admit that she wasn't acting very grown up at all, but when her overriding thoughts were simply 'I want my mum' it was hard not to regress into some bad tempered, grasping little five year old.

Once she found what must have been the kitchen, Verity allowed herself one moment more of self indulgence, the smallest of whimpers that had to force out all the emotion surrounding those awful death eaters into one go. She then forced herself to take stock of the room and let her search begin.

Not that there was much to search for really. The kitchen was as bare as the living room. The range and a few units remained and while she hunted through cupboards she found them all empty- but for the dust, the dead flies and the animal droppings. Running a hand through her hair she slumped onto a chair at the old dusty table at the centre of the room which sat atop a threadbare rug, laid over the warm orange floor tiles. Not caring about the dust, she slumped her head on it and began to trace pictures with her little finger.

But with her view of the floor now enhanced by the closeness, Verity spotted something of interest in an area where the rug had been disturbed by her shuffling of chairs. Nothing significant, or particularly groundbreaking- that was not a thought that occurred to her at all, just something of a vague passing interest to pass the time.

Slipping off her chair, Verity peeled back the rug to reveal an unmistakable trap door. Verity rather thought that classified as a bit of a result, even if it only inevitably led to the basement.

Running her hands along the wooden surface, Verity found the iron rungs that supported it. Carved into the rungs was something else that intrigued Verity. An unmistakable ancient rune. In all her life, her N.E.W.T in Ancient runes had never once come in useful outside of Hogwarts but she could at least identify this rune without much hassle which made her feel oddly pleased.

The shape was a vertical line with twin diagonals emerging from either side of it, to represent the antlers of an elk. A very basic rune, Verity remembered it clearly from those little antlers as 'Algiz'. It meant an opportunity for growth, rapid development and most interestingly of all- safe refuge and protection. She called out to Hannah.

When she walked into the room, Verity pointed to the trap door and grinned as wide as she could.

"Have you looked at what's down there?" she said, kneeling beside Verity, "Things of importance always go in the cellar don't they? It's practically the rules."

Verity pointed to the runes to, "You'll like this," she added- a teeny bit pleased that she had the opportunity to show off what she knew. "The three prongs, it means safe refuge. _Algiz_," she said very clearly so Hannah could hear the pronunciation properly and Verity could boast some more.

At which point, some sort of blue light began to filter through the trap door and it slid a little upwards, unlatching itself and shifting so it could now be lifted easily. If there was a password for the trap door then Verity had stumbled upon it purely by not bunking off Ancient Runes.

Hannah breathed out and looked at Verity with her grey eyes very wide, "This is properly it isn't it?"

"Open it then," Verity prompted but Hannah shook her head.

"You do it with me. Like with that dementor back there."

She fixed her hands around the latch to the trapdoor and Verity joined her, trying not to second guess what they might find, hoping that it really wasn't just some wine cellar.

What followed, the phrase 'a let down' didn't even begin to cover.

At least there was no sign of old bottles of wine and some bits of rotten wood, but underneath the trap door was hardly the secrets to the universe. In fact, there was nothing. Nothing at all- just swirling darkness. It was as though the doorway had broken, if that was at all possible.

Verity touched the tip of her wand to some hanging wisps of stone and plaster they it fell away. There was no sound below of anything hitting the ground. Chewing her lip, Verity looked at Hannah who seemed just as stumped as she was, if not more. She tried to cast Lumos in the hopes of shedding a little light on whatever was below them, but it didn't work and there was nothing but more darkness, almost seeming to suck out the light from her wand.

Stupidly, Verity then went to stick her hand through the trap door, as though hoping to enclose her fingertips around something tangible but Hannah grabbed her arm and said, "Honestly, that can't seem like a good idea to you. Really Vez?"

Verity had to concede it probably wasn't the smartest thing to do, going around sticking your hands into unknown places- she might have pulled it back with more than a few missing fingers.

"Would Simon…I mean, he's an unspeakable," said Hannah, now apparently in awe of the trapdoor. Verity herself couldn't help but feel uneasy. She shut the lid firmly and felt an odd sense of relief when the thing clicked lock again.

That much darkness and nothingness shouldn't be allowed.

"He deals with numbers, that has nothing to do with numbers," said Verity.

"What doesn't?" Simon appeared at the door and Verity studied his face for something apologetic. There was nothing there.

"Me and Vez found a trap door," Hannah was eager to say. "That could be how she did it you know, Vez, Auntie Vester. But it might be broken. There's nothing down there- nothing at all. You've never come across anything like that have you?"

Simon frowned, "There is something like that, in our department. The kind of thing you'd be sensible not to go near. Let me have a look at it."

Verity shook her head and placed a hand firmly over the trap door. "No. No need. I bet it's just structural. We need a builder to fix this, not an Unspeakable. And it's been such a long day."

Blinking Hannah stared at her sister but decided to leave it and said nothing.

"I can call my friend Brynn, Hannah. He's the best builder I know, he'll get to the bottom of what's wrong. But right now, we need to get to our hotel before it's too late to check in."

Simon clearly looked as though he wanted to say something, his pride no doubt damaged by the insinuation that Bryn would be better for the job than he would but honestly, at this point, he could go suck on it for all Verity cared. She stood up and smiled again.

"It's exciting though isn't it?"

And though she had to lie to sound enthused it was awful to know that the little nod of Hannah's head was wholly genuine.

* * *

Verity and Hannah managed to convince Simon not to angrily have it out with Jan Dabrowski, though Verity personally also thought he was being a bit dodgy but they honestly did have to check in at their hotel.

It was a soulless sort of place that the Muggles called a 'Holliday Inn' just off the motorway, and it looked more like an office building than where anyone would want to go on holiday.

Distracted by ringing telephones and receptionists click clacking away at things on their desks, Hannah and Verity patiently waited for Simon to pay for their night's stay, remarking at how similar a 'lift' was to floo powder loudly enough to make Simon wince due to the presence of a doorman.

Hannah was in the room next door to the one booked for Simon and Verity but when Hannah stopped to say goodnight, Verity told her to wait a moment and that she wouldn't be long.

Flopping onto the bed, Simon placed his hands in front of his eyes and sighed. "I'm sorry Vez, it's been a shitty day and I shouldn't have acted so stupidly."

Verity nodded and slipped on top of him, allowing herself to be embraced before pulling away. "I'm going to stay with Hannah tonight."

This was not what Simon had expected as he frowned. "You are joking."

Verity took one large, dark hand in hers and brushed a kiss against his knuckle. "We heard our mother dying again, Simon. I can't leave her on her own tonight."

Although he clearly wasn't happy with it, Simon said nothing, just nodded slowly and carefully all the while watching Verity with something unfathomable in his eyes.

"Look," Verity sighed. "Please, just make sure the next death the dementors make me hear isn't yours okay."

Simon sighed and rolled his eyes, "Okay, I promise. Thank god you two don't know how a mini bar works."

Verity smiled and kissed him, simply because she didn't know what he was talking about.

**A/N: So I have edited out my silly little rants about reviews as I realise just how unprofessional I was being. Instead I would like to thank those who have been reviewing; thanks to jadely31, XxMichyBabyxX , emcee31, annewed and julia as well as everyone who has favorited the story- I really do appreciate it :)**


	12. Keeping it All in Chaos

**Chapter eleven-Keeping it all in Chaos**** (April 1997) Part I**

"It's raining again," said Hannah, watching Diagon Alley from the window and how the rain bounced from deep puddles that pooled around the cobbled stones. "The shop might pick up when it stops."

"It won't," said Verity blankly. Idly, she wiped the spotless counter top down once again. Fred and George were, well Verity didn't know where they where, but she'd been charged with the running of the shop for today. She had, rather erroneously, had the dim fantasy that today would be the busiest day that the shop had seen in months- that for one day people would forget about Voldemort and she would be able to present Fred and George with a cash register overflowing with gold.

This had not been the case of course and the Daily Prophet that Hannah had brought with her lay on a stool, emblazoned with yet more news of deaths and arrests.

Verity was at least glad that her little sister had offered to keep her company today, or there would have been no one and nothing to do aside from cleaning everything in the shop from top to bottom. Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes almost glistened, it was that pristine- it didn't seem to fit the shop. Neither did the lack of Fred and George; they made this place. It wasn't the same without them and somehow Verity still didn't buy their old excuse of 'looking at new suppliers and premises' as a valid excuse for leaving the shop.

But it's not like they were Death Eaters or anything. She didn't have any reason to be worried, Verity told herself firmly, it wasn't any of her business or her place to ask questions. She was a Hufflepuff and Hufflepuffs trusted their friends above everything else.

Hannah had given up scanning the papers for job vacancies after circling a few and resolving to make whatever enquiries she could and, after looking out of the window and watching the few straggling patrons of Diagon Alley she returned to her new favourite topic: the restoration of Aunty Vester's old cottage. After the Dementor attack, Verity found it odd that Hannah would even want to go back there, but her sister could be far more stubborn and single minded than anyone gave her credit for if you asked Verity.

"I think it'll be really nice, if it had a bit of cheering up in places," said Hannah casually as she poked at the croaking crisps display. "It wouldn't take that long would it- if Bryn got that place back on the Floo Network I could go back there some weekends or even during the week. I could have my meals at the pub until the kitchen was fixed up again and stay in one of the bedrooms."

"You'd be okay with staying there on your own?" said Verity, raising her eyebrows skepticially. Hannah frowned, offended.

"I'm not six, Vez. I wouldn't get nightmares or wet the bed."

"I think _I_ might get nightmares or wet the bed if I had to stay there on my own," Verity said with a small smile. "What if the dementors came back?"

"I managed to do a patronus," Hannah pointed out. "I can handle myself."

Verity, having been there at the time Hannah produced this so called 'miraculous patronus' thought this ability of Hannah's to handle herself was at least a debatable matter but she thought better of brining that particular topic up and instead chewed her lip and shrugged. "It sounds boring as hell if you ask me."

"Yeah and staying at home is overwhelmingly exciting," shrugged Hannah.

"You could always clean up _our_ house," grinned Verity to which Hannah snorted in a manner that suggested that this was something that was never going to happen.

"Just make sure you talk to Bryn," Hannah reminded her. Verity was putting this off, in the vague hope that Hannah would drop this entire line of thinking but of course this was underestimating Hannah. She wouldn't really have a choice whether she liked it and Verity made up her mind to drop by Bryn's and do just that in the afternoon.

A slow day fizzled down into a slower evening and the books revealed the pitiful sales to just five customers- it got too much for Hannah who sloped off to do a bit of shopping, passing round a few scrolls of her resume to a few shops only to be told nowhere was employing and those that were weren't in the way of considering Hogwart's drop outs which left poor Hannah in as foul a mood as she could ever manage. She'd trailed home rather miserably and had left Verity on her own in the shop.

Verity reminded herself that WWW's wasn't going under- Fred was far too good with money to let something like that happen, for twins that gave of the impression of being fun and anarchic they were surprisingly business savvy and the shop could no doubt survive the hardships. Just for as long as it would take before the war was over. But Verity couldn't quite convince herself that this was going to be any time soon.

So, it was with a heavy heart that finished her final task of mopping the floor, making sure that all the lights were off and the alarm charms were set again. Tucking her uniform under her arm, she paused outside of the shop, leaning against the glass of display and lit a cigarette. She looked up and saw one half of the Weasley twins approaching-which one, she couldn't be sure until he spoke- clearly to get into the flat upstairs.

"'lo," he said cheerfully, "just finishing up?"

Verity nodded, pretty sure it was George. "Did Fred get way-laid wherever you went?" Her eye was drawn to an odd scorch mark on the base of George's neck, a red raw streak that looked painful. George knew was looking and raised his eyebrow at her, as though daring her to mention it. She wanted to, but she got the impression that George had been assembling an excuse or an alibi for some time; it would sound convincing, whatever he had to say- but it would almost certainly be a lie.

"Yeah, he did," said George airily.

"I can imagine there would be lots to sort out, with new premises and all," shrugged Verity, a small hint of sarcasm in her voice , because well, new premises didn't get you scorch marks up your neck. "I should be getting home then."

"I was going to get something to eat- come along. Nothing fancy, just some hearty pub grub- my treat though, to say thanks for manning the fortress."

And for not asking too many questions, Verity didn't doubt. Verity Abbott did not rock the boat, and it made her feel ashamed of herself; she had a cosy little set up with the Weasley twins and it seemed that this was more important than exploring anything potentially dangerous. If it had been Hannah in her position, well then, she would never let this thing die. But that's where they were different- Hannah was proactive and Verity was simply reactive, still just hoping if she kept quiet enough that things would go back to normal.

"If you like, Mr Weasley," said Verity as though it were a command from him. "I won't sniff at the chance to eat out; my sisters and me are probably the worst cooks in Britain." This was true enough and Verity had been living off a quite unhealthy diet as shown by the paunch that had begun to form on her once rather flat stomach as well as the few splashes of acne that Verity hadn't seen since she was seventeen that had begin to form once again on her cheeks. She put it down to her Dad's favourite meal which consisted of chips and fried bread.

She frowned a little though, at the thought of George paying for both of them. It might have just been in her own head, but somehow, both of them paying for themselves made things feel a little bit more innocent. Not that it wasn't totally innocent to begin with, of course.

Because she went to the Leaky Cauldron all the time with her friends; sometimes alone with Simon for comfortable, intimate drinks after work, sometimes alone with Justine for girly chats, sharing a bottle of Tom's worst and cheapest wine between them, listening to Justine's little giggle turn into that croaky bawdy laugh that she saved for drunken dirty jokes or alone with Bryn, for incredulous laughing over his latest conquest and a cheese ploughman's in the afternoon and she'd never felt guilty about that.

So once inside, nestled amongst punters at a comfy table in the corner Verity put it out of her mind as she scanned the menu and decided that a piping hot steak and ale pie washed down with a pint of cider would be the best thing to get her over a dull, rainy day feeling.

"We are grateful we can rely on you, to keep things in order," George started after he'd ordered.

"It's my job and I'm just grateful to still have a job," said Verity looking into her cider gloomily. She got the urge very suddenly to leave, quite sure that she was going to be boring throughout the whole of the meal, with a little smile she tried vaguely to crack a joke. "Especially one that isn't so bothered with timekeeping. Anywhere else would have fired me months ago!"

"That's probably true. But any other employee would have quit after the eyebrow incident."

"One did, didn't he?" laughed Verity. "I could have told you that guy wouldn't fit working at the shop from the outset. He wore a _suit_ to his interview."

"What can I say, I was seduced by professionalism."

"_You_ were?" snorted Verity.

"Well Fred was- they talked business strategy, which I'll admit, sort of makes me switch off."

Verity nodded, she could understand that- she was never one for making money, she was a good saleswoman but she didn't think about strategy or figures or anything, just doing what came naturally. They needed that though, the twins- it made them perfect, they had the right dose of business acumen and creative input between them. They were going to get back on track, so long as they both stayed alive, Verity thought.

"Fred's been thinking about mail order, too," said George. "To get us over this hump. We'd still have the shop but it'll be easier for people to buy things via owl if they're worried about travelling. Good yeah?"

"Yeah," Verity rolled her eyes into her cider, "You know, if you'd told me that we were going to talk shop all through dinner- I think I would have gone home."

"That's because that baby is just a nine to five thing for you, me and Fred live and breath our baby girl."

"Don't call it your baby, how many more times!" Verity grinned. "It's a shop. Not a baby, and definitely not yours _and_ Fred's baby."

"It's our baby," said George solemnly. "You don't understand; clearly you don't have a strong maternal instinct."

Verity muttered at him to shut up, and threw her napkin at him.

The food came and the pie was as warm and as rich as Verity had hoped. It took her almost half an hour to finish it, as she savoured each bit of golden, crumbling pastry and each gravy soaked chunk of meat- towards the end George had wolfed down his fish and chips and was just watching Verity was she made goo-goo eyes at the pie.

"My mum makes a good one of those," said George with a grin, resting his head on one hand.

"Mine too," Verity concurred. "Well…I mean she, _did_. Before…" suddenly the golden pastry seemed a little grey, and the innards like gloopy, stinking old dog food. "Bloody hell Verity," she chuckled at herself, "It's like I'm built in with an instant conversation killer."

"I don't mind."

"Because you've been waiting for me to shut up all night."

"Something like that," he chuckled. "But you know, it's your mum…I mean," he struggled a little bit here. "You're allowed to talk about her."

"It's awkward," Verity shook her head. "We talk, well me and Hannah _try_. But it's all wrapped up in you-know-who coming back and no one really wants to admit that this is what he does. I talk about Mum dying and everyone else gets worried about their own…I don't know, safety or something. About facing up to the fact that people are going to die. Lot's of them."

"Bleak."

"Yeah…sorry, this is what I mean. Of course, my bloody boyfriend had to be a muggleborn too- and he's convinced that nothing bad is happening to muggleborns at all. So if I even mention that I'm worried he might be in danger or what happened to my mum…" she sucked in her breath. "I don't _like_ talking about it anymore than anyone likes hearing about it."

"How very inherently British of you," mused George.

"I suppose I'll just have to repress everything until I explode in a bloody gooey mess."

"As long as you do it on your own time. I'm not wiping shards of Verity intestine off a display I slaved for hours on."

"_I _slaved for hours on."

George didn't say anything, just laughed a little and cleaned out his pint glass while Verity mopped up the dregs of gravy spilled from her pie with one last chip. She felt like licking the plate. And when it was finally finished she looked up at George and said in a rather uncertain but sincere sort of way,

"Thank you, George."

For the dinner, and the promotion- for hiring her in general and making sure she still had that little place carved out in Diagon Alley where things never really felt quite as bad as they actually were- if one place would survive this god awful war it was Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes, while the twins themselves were far too full of life to be just another statistic of attrition, muffled out in an alleyway somewhere.

"Don't mention it," he shrugged as the two got up from the table, pushing the old wooden chairs aside. "Especially not to Fred- I stole his wallet earlier so technically this meal is on him."

Rolling her eyes, Verity pecked a kiss onto George's cheek- nestled in between an expanse of freckles and the slightest of bristling. She didn't have to stand on tip toes like she had to with Simon or move her head at all, her lips were just there in the right position- like it was a very natural thing to do and all of the pieces fit together.

"You need to shave," Verity said idly.

"So do you, Queen Moustache."

"I'll see you at work."

* * *

"So you've seen something like this before?" asked Verity as she watched Bryn peer at the strange trap door, his now healthy looking moustache bristling as he thought to himself. Bryn nodded slowly and scratched his chin.

There was no way to shake off the pitbull gnawing on her leg that was Hannah Abbott when she got something stuck in her craw so Verity and Bryn had travelled to Wales together, apparating this time as opposed to the tedious car journey that Simon had taken them on last month. Without the mist, the cottage looked more yellow than ever, and in the heavy rain it's bricks had taken on a wet sort of sheen that made it glisten like yellow topaz.

"It's a basement portal for sure," said Bryn nodding his head and, in builder mode, taking a long swig of his very sugary, very milky tea. "Don't see them so much any more- the Floo Network made these things pretty much obsolete. But before the ministry started regulating that, a few houses had them."

"A basement portal?"

Bryn blew out as he searched for the words, "Like, a portkey built into your house. Only it only ever goes one other place. Usually the basement of another house- good if you have a holiday home in France or something and don't want to have to ask for permission from the foreign government to use a portkey or faff about with magic carpets."

Verity looked at the swirling black mass of darkness and grinned. That was how she'd done it then; probably bought a house in Poland and used to transport Jan and his family and however many others there had been. It would have been easy and perfect and with the locks on the trapdoor, easy to hide from anyone if they got suspicious.

"But it's broken now?" said Verity nodding at the swirling darkness- "I mean, that sure as heck doesn't look very safe."

"It's definitely broken," Bryn conceded, apparently his job was to point out the obvious to people. Pulling his broad body up from it's crouching position he pulled out his wand and began to examine it casually "But you do remember that I'm in the business of fixing things?"

"That's debatable," shrugged Verity with a teasing smile. "I've definitely seen you drunk and breaking more stuff than I've ever seen you fixing."

"Ye of little faith," smiled Bryn. "If you leave me to it- I can have this done in about three days max. No charge."

"No Bryn, don't," said Verity quickly. "I'd pay you. Mates rates of course, but I would pay. Not that there is much of a point, honestly if I tell Hannah you can't fix it at all then this damn thing will just end here."

"I don't think that's sensible," said Bryn quickly.

"Huh?"

"Think about it, dummy. It isn't a bad thing to have a plan of defence- or an escape route if it ever came down to it. My dad had a vanishing cabinet in the last war, not sure why considering it isn't likely Death Eaters would ever go for _him_."

Verity looked at the basement portal carefully, into that blackness and had to agree with him- knowing that her family could be in Germany at the click of a finger put her mind at ease slightly. But how much danger were they really in? Dad was a blood traitor, sure, but he was a pureblood and he kept his head down- as for Connie and Hannah and Verity, well they were hardly anything special. The only one who had really needed protecting was her Mum, and they hadn't done so well at that.

She looked at the old kitchen, and the old house and realised what she needed to do. She needed to convince Simon to move in with her here. It wasn't going to be an easy job to get her boyfriend to give up his nice, clean and excellently located apartment and live in a place that smelt of old mothballs.

"Of course," said Verity, snapping her fingers as though she'd had some huge eureka moment. "It could be really useful to have some sort of escape route."

"I know, that's what I just-"

"I can't believe I didn't think of it earlier."

"Technically it was _my_-"

"Well I suppose I was due a genius idea," grinned Verity, quite aware of Bryn's growing frustration and nudging him with the edge of one of her sharp little elbows. Bryn just shrugged it off with a mutter of 'whatever'.

It was getting late and Verity was keen to get home in time for supper- though that would hardly be a triumph of fine dining, but at least when it was Hannah's turn to cook there was something edible on the table. She side along apparated with Bryn to just outside of her house, and the little rural village in Cumbria that the Abbot's called home. Being located in the North of England, the weather was of course worse than Diagon Alley and Wales combined- bitter winds blowing down from Scotland and intermingling with the rain. In the short time it took to run up her drive, having said a hurried goodbvye to Bryn and place her key in the lock, Verity was already soaked through to the bone.

The scene that greeted her upon entering the house, however, was far worse than anything outside.

Walking through the door, she already noticed the unusual amount of dust in the air. It was almost like the mists that the death eaters produced, but thankfully the mist was thick with rock and sediments as opposed to misery though she choked over the particles of rubble as they swam through her lungs, airways and nasal passage. There was rubble strewn all over the floor, as though something had been exploded, or a wall had collapsed.

Hannah wouldn't have done this- this wasn't a paper plate. And it couldn't have been an accident, not with all these chunks of debris flying everywhere. She'd been running so fast, Verity realised, that she would never have noticed a Dark Mark over the door.

And just when she'd found them a way to be safe. No part of Verity wanted to walk into the living room, so afraid to find her sister and her father splayed on the floor and limp as rag dolls, masked Death Eaters standing above their bodies, wands posied and lips ready to yell the last words that Verity would ever hear. She clenched her fists and tried to will herself back, to her last year at Hogwarts maybe. That didn't help though, seeing as all she could see then was the body of poor Cedric Diggory.

"Verity!"

Her whole body shook with so much relief she might have been melting as Hannah ran out into the arms of her older sister. But it was a short lived relief as Verity realised that Hannah was crying. Was it Dad? Or Connie or Brooks?

"You have to stop him, I think he's gone mad."


	13. Order Up

**A/N: Sorry this took so long. I had so much school work, exams and real life stuff recently. Half of this chapter was sitting on my computer for positively months but I never had the time to finish it/ seriously struggled with a little bit of the old writers block. **

**Chapter twelve- Order Up (April 1997) Part II**

"Mad? I don't…" Verity frowned. But any thoughts that even had a chance to pass through her mind were very quickly interrupted by another explosion that sent more of the smoke dust careening into the hall. Her head whipped around while Hannah clutched her closer and buried her head into Verity's arm.

"It's dad," said Hannah in a squeak. "He's wrecking it."

"What?"

But Verity didn't wait for an answer, just skated into the living room. The sight that greeted her was one of complete chaos. Jed Abbot stood alone in the centre of the room, shoulders shaking wildly as he started to pant with effort. Raising his arm above his head, and letting out a strangled cry wrapped around a curse, he sent what Verity could only imagine was yet another spell out of his wand.

The fireplace, or at least what was left of it because it was now nothing more than a ragged hole in the wall and a pile of rubble trembled and exploded showering more ash into the room. The sofa, the carpet and indeed Verity's dad himself were all powered in grey sediment so that Jed's hair looked fully grey and like his shoulders indicated a serious dandruff problem.

"DAD!" screamed Verity, shielding her eyes from the dust. "DAD! Christ, what are you doing?"

Not even lifting his head to acknowledge his daughter's existence, Jed abandoned his wand and did away with magic all together, just knelt at the foot of the fireplace and just started clawing at the wall and pulling away what he could.

"Decorating," he said gruffly.

That was not funny. Not quite sure how to place herself, Verity put her hands on her hips, then didn't, folded her arms, then didn't and then raked a nervous hand through her hair.

"Seriously! Stop it now. Hannah is frantic."

"Gotta take it out. Gotta stay safe," he mumbled. Clearly she was not going to get anything out of her father, not when he was in his apparent psycho handy man mode. Backing out of the living room slowly, she went back into the hall to find Hannah at the foot of the stairs, leaning against the banister miserably. Quite without any kind of occlumency skill Verity could tell immediately what Hannah was thinking because she was thinking it too. _I wish Mum was here._ Joy Abbot would know what to do. But if Mum was here, then Verity doubted that Jed would even be doing what he was.

"He said he was decorating," said Verity sitting by Hannah. "What's going on here Hannah?"

"I don't know," said Hannah shaking her head, "I don't know. He was fine…happy, he came out of his study talking about some match of the century, grabbed some lunch. And then an owl came with a letter and he just went ballistic, started talking about charms on the house and people in the walls, watching us. He got hung up on the fireplaces, the floo network just saying 'gotta stay safe', that's what he's doing. Taking out the fireplaces so no one can get through."

"What was on this letter," said Verity, this was clearly key to her father's breakdown. "Where is it?"

"He burnt it. Wouldn't tell me what it said….you don't think the Death Eaters…."

"No," said Verity. "No, there's no reason why they would. We're just…you know, _The Abbots_."

"So was Mum."

Verity tipped her head, trying to put into her expression what she couldn't into words. _That was different, Mum was a muggleborn. _They didn't think she deserved to live, just because of the status of her blood.

"I doesn't matter I suppose, Dad's thoroughly freaked out. He isn't going to stop now he's got this in his head." Just like Hannah, Verity supposed, she got it from him.

"Which is why we should tell him about Vester's house."

Verity blanched, very noticeably and Hannah looked at her, almost scandalised.

"Of course we should, Vez," Hannah insisted. "It makes sense. He's ripping up our fireplaces trying to keep us safe, when we know that we've got somewhere where people can hide if they are in danger."

"We aren't in any _danger_," said Verity.

"Everyone is!" Hannah squeaked and Verity looked at the living room, pressing a finger to her lips.

"For god's sake keep your voice down, Hans," she hissed angrily. "Don't be stupid. You tell Dad and what? He packs us away to Wales for god knows how long? You want back into Hogwarts because you're missing out…well imagine what it will be like there? No contact, no floo network, neither of us have our licences. And how long do we stay like that?"

Hannah chewed her lip.

"You do know I have to work?" Verity continued trying her best to stop her voice from rising. "And what if Bryn can't fix the portal? It'll be just another house in the middle of nowhere," she ran a hand through her hair. She was scared too, as scared as Hannah and maybe even as scared as Dad but she realised now how desperately she wanted someone in her family to stay calm, a port in a storm. Maybe she'd been too cynical about those Ministry pamphlets, too glib about that oh-so British concept of keeping calm and carrying on. If stiff upper lips trembled and people broke down, then what were they left with?

"Then what do we do…about _him_?" said Hannah looking into the other room. For one horrible moment Verity just didn't have the energy to care, Dad might be drowning under all of this now, and he might well be dragging them down under into the madness. Callously, she shrugged.

"It's his house. He's a grown man. Don't ask me…call Connie or something." Hannah gaped at her, as though she couldn't quite comprehend what she was hearing. It was the least Hufflepuff, hell the least Abbot like thing Verity could have said but really she just didn't know what to do. She was tired and, though she tried her best to be understanding, Verity was angry and disappointed that the giant of her child hood, who she had always looked up to, who had always been infinitely strong had turned out to fall apart so easily while she was trying to keep everything together. It was hard not to feel just a little bit let down. And now she was doing the same to Hannah. Standing up, Verity made her way up the staircase to her room. Silently, Hannah followed and stopped outside of the door, peering in disapprovingly. Pulling her old school trunk from underneath her bed, Verity started to fling clothes into it, not bothering to fold. Her work robes, underwear, jeans and a few other items were piled up without much care as Hannah's eyes went very round and very wide.

"What are you doing?" she asked, horrified.

"Packing," said Verity gruffly, sounding very much like her father had done in the living. "Since I have work tomorrow and apparently we're off the Floo Network I'll just catch the Knight bus down to London and stay at Simon's."

"You're leaving."

"It would appear so, wouldn't it?"

"For how long?"

Verity put a hand at her temple, aware of a pressing at her temple, "I dunno, Hannah. I think I need to get my head around all of this first."

Hannah's mouth set into a thin line, she quivered and fought hard to suppress tears of both sadness and clearly of a pure and unadulterated rage "No. No way Vez you can't do that!" she shouted, voice straining and cracking around the edges.

"I have to be at work."

"It isn't fair! You can't just leave me here…not with Dad like this! Not with _everything_ like this. Vez…I haven't got _anyone _else."

Verity couldn't even bring herself to look at Hannah anymore, not with the tears on her face and the trembling in her lip, she just clicked the clasps of her trunk shut with a sad sort of finality and left the room. Hannah watched her go off course, through the window as she looked through the curtains and onto the street below. From behind the doors, Verity thought she could hear the sounds of her father sobbing as the numbers of people inside the House of Abbot grew less and less, dwindling and ripped ragged by time and circumstance. Poor Hannah, Poor Dad- they deserved better than her they really did. But what could Verity do? She was just a Hufflepuff and a shop assistant in a joke shop, she couldn't be anybody's hero. Not when running away was as easy as this.

Her wand arm shook as she held it out to signal for the bus and once she was in her seat it didn't take long for her own tears to start falling too.

* * *

Then came the guilt. The bitter heavy guilt, like a rucksack of bricks she carried around with her on her shoulders. Simon had been understandably a little bit taken aback when Verity had arrived at his door late that evening with her mascara smudged around her face- and she conceded that one usually talked it through with their significant other before deciding to move in with them, however indefinitely. But he didn't slam the door in her face, he sat her down, made her a cup of tea and they watched Muggle Telly for a little while. Verity didn't think she deserved a cup of tea and Muggle telly but she drank it down gratefully all the same, sniffled in front of a comedy programme and felt a dim sense of relief. Very dim.

George asked her if she was alright at work the next day and Verity had forced herself to say that she was fine. Maybe she wanted to talk to him about it, but she hadn't even been able to open up to Simon the night before, not properly. It was family stuff really and Verity knew how she would come across, surely she was in the wrong for leaving. Maybe she just didn't want anyone to know that. So she smiled and injected herself with a false dose of energy like so many cups of the kind of nasty synthetic tasting coffee that came out of machines and tried to make smiles and jokes. When George gave her an extra biscuit with her tea it took all of the strength Verity had not to go a bit wibbly and have a cry.

Hormones probably.

Verity didn't go home after work, not to her home anyway. She moped at Simon's and they had dinner together, thought about poking her head through the fire to check up on Hannah but remembered that she couldn't. So Verity lay awake and thought about Dad and Hannah alone in that house, trapped up in their own fear while she'd swanned off to London. And all because of a stupid job in a joke shop, all because it was so easy to run away.

Oddly enough it turned out to be Justine who started something that Verity couldn't just run away from in the end. It was around five miserable, self pitying days after she had left the Abbot household that Justine invited her to the pub one evening after work. With her were Bryn, Simon and Earnest- the three boys all with pints, settling in to enjoy a standard Hufflepuff type night in the Leaky Cauldron. Justine however, had a glass of water, her hair was pulled into a tight bun and her expression jarringly grave. There was a little in Professor McGonagall about her, Verity had to admit from the way she sat stiff shouldered and stiff lipped, and when you were as bad at transfiguration as Verity was, this was only ever an ominous sort of foreshadowing.

"We need to talk, Vez," said Justine.

Verity couldn't help herself, she took a sip of her drink and asked quite seriously, "Are you breaking up with me?" Both Justine and Earnest pretended they hadn't heard her and there was a stony sort of silence in the room. Clearly Verity had misread the mood of the room. Upon further inspection, she realised that Justine's eyes were a little red as though she'd been crying and she held a crumpled up tissue in her hand, Earnest had his arm tight around her for support and even Bryn was looking at her with a clearly worried sort of expression.

"I'm not kidding around, Verity. Please, for once. This is really serious."

Now Verity didn't feel much like kidding, and she definitely didn't like this. The serious faces, the hush that fellow over people that had known each other for absolutely years and years, had been inseparable throughout school. It was another knock on effect of this whole business of being afraid and Verity felt like someone had died again.

"Sorry, go ahead."

Justine nodded, and opened her mouth, before thinking better of it. From the pocket of her work robes and neat little pinstripe suit she pulled her wand out as discreetly as she could manage and muttered the words of a muffling spell. That, if not anything else was enough to raise Verity's suspicions as she wondered just what she needed to say that was so important that they couldn't risk being overheard. There were supposed to be spies of You Know Who everywhere, if you listened to the most panicked of civilians and those with a fondness for conspiracy theories but Verity hardly thought they were interested in her conversations about joke moustaches and gossip about whatever tart Bryn managed to pick up of an evening.

"Bryn told me about your house in Wales," said Justine finally. Verity shot the large Welsh builder a glance and he shrugged apologetically but Verity was far from shocked, she hadn't asked for him to keep it a secret after all, Simon already knew anyway and Bryn pretty much told Justine everything going back to when they were at Hogwarts. Hufflepuffs weren't always the best at keeping secrets- at least not between friends, between enemies it was a different matter. All the same, Verity still wasn't sure what this had to do with silencing spells and grave faces.

"Oh. Okay."

"Look, I wouldn't ask if it wasn't extremely desperate…I know it's a big ask, you to put your neck out on the line like this. But the fact of the matter is that things are bad. And it's _family_." Family of course was the magic word to the assembled Hufflepuffs, the kind of thing that made them sit up and pay attention, or it had done before Verity had walked out on hers so coldly. She was surprised she'd even been capable of it.

"My cousin, Toby," said Justine suddenly, bringing the tissue to her mouth and shaking slightly. Earnest pulled her closer and Bryn leaned over in his chair and put a comforting hand on her knee as well. "My cousin," she tried again. "He died…and…" Justine gripped her hand and took a deep breath, forced herself to look up with sparkly, tear stained eyes.

Verity made a little 'oh' sound and gripped her friend's hand. "Christ, 'Tine, I'm so sorry…you should have said. When? Why didn't you tell me?"

Justine shook her head, "I didn't…I didn't want to bring up bad memories I guess. _They_ got him, Vez. Set that Fenrir Greyback on him…he was _five_! I guess they meant to turn him but…he didn't make it…Earnest…" she said, clutching on to him, making it clear she couldn't bring herself to finish so Earnest took over the task but he for some reason didn't, just bowed his head into Justine's hair and Verity thought she caught a kind of nervous twitching in his eyes as he glanced about the room.

"Justine's aunty, Liliana Montgomery, wouldn't help the Death Eaters," said Bryn, finally raising to the challenge and taking over. "It's why they went for her son. But we can't be sure they'll just stop there. Justine is worried that her aunty will be next. They've been staying with friends and moving around a lot, but her aunty is ,as you can imagine, seriously quite depressed. Justine doesn't think if the Death Eaters find her that she would even try to fight back. What we need is somewhere safe where Justine's aunty and her husband can stay until they get You Know Who- and I thought of your house immediately."

Despite all of her efforts, Verity winced and Justine grasped onto her hand beseechingly. "Please Verity."

Verity found all she could do was gape wordlessly, muttering, "But is the portal…"

"It's pretty much fixed," said Bryn, nodding his head a little too enthusiastically. "Few minor tweaks but I'm sure I can sort that." There was something clearly, that Bryn wasn't being straight about- pretty much like every builder ever but Verity didn't have the energy to pursue that line of enquiry, especially when Simon piped up.

"And this is the _only_ way," he asked sternly. "You do know that Verity and her family could get in a lot of trouble if they find your aunt and then find out the place belongs to the Abbotts."

"But hopefully they won't," interjected Bryn. "That's what's so good about the portal…all Justine's aunt has to do is hide out in a little place in Poland. Hopefully the Death Eaters never put two and two together. All of us, off the radar, keeping our heads down- we're hardly the order of the Pheonix and I'm far far better looking than the Boy Who Lived. The Death Eaters have bigger fish to fry and better people to look at than us. All we are doing is making sure one family doesn't get hurt. What's so wrong about that?"

"Surely this Order of The Pheonix is the place to go for help if they stood up to him last time…as opposed to a bunch of kids in a pub? We shouldn't even be talking about this in here!"

"And nobody else died last time because the Order kept them all safe," countered Bryn. "And it's not like the Order has bigger fish to fry, they can just drop everything for Justine's depressed Aunty! Simon you know as well as I do we can't wait around hoping for other people to fix our problem, especially when we have the means to do it ourselves perfectly well."

Simon shook his head again, "It's a big ask of Verity. You know it is," he looked at her and made it clear he was worried that she was going to go for it. He was the lone Ravenclaw in a sea of Hufflepuffs and the only one probably willing to think things through after the word family was mentioned.

All Verity could think was what she would have wanted Justine to do if it had been her Mum needing to be kept hidden and safe. And then she thought of her Aunty Vester, it was in her blood. Vester would have said yes, Hannah definitely would say yes.

"Not just Verity," said Bryn firmly. "We are all in on this. Justine of course is the most suspicious because of the connection of family, which is why offered to go get the Montgomery's things. And Earnest said he'd be there when we moved them in- so there isn't any trouble."

"You planned all this out like she doesn't have the option to say no!" said Simon aghast. "You can't trap people like this!"

"It's not a trap, Simon," said Verity suddenly, because she was perfectly capable of speaking for herself. "In this together, yeah?" she nodded, her mind more than made up.

She couldn't not see a tiny bit of betrayal in her boyfriend's eyes. "Verity you have to be sens-"

"No. I've decided- in fact it's been decided since they killed my Mum. Of course we have to take sides in this and I know which side I want to be on. And if we have the chance help one family then why the hell wouldn't we take it? Yes. Of course your aunt can stay at The Sett. I suppose we can talk about things in a bit more detail once she is there."

"This is madness rushing into it like this," Simon muttered. "Like we're…like…I dunno…"

"I know," said Bryn. "But we have to do what we can. It's just one family."

"Just some Hufflepuffs doing a little bit of _something_," nodded Justine. "We're not trying to fight the Dark Lord or anything like that. Just…"

A thought occurred to Verity and she giggled, "We're not the Order of the Phoenix…we're just the Order of the Badger, right?" Bryn put a hand to his heart and nodded, lifting his glass.

"I think I'll definitely drink to that."

Both Verity and Justine joined him immediately while Earnest and Simon both looked equally put out. After a bit of nudging from Justine, Earnest finally raised his glass too until only Simon was left. His expression was one of disbelief, pity and also fear for Verity, she could tell it in the way she looked at him with those searching brown eyes.

Mouthing Please at him was all Verity could do and he sighed heavily.

"Eagles are way better than naff badgers," he said sulkily. "That's a crap name." But he joined his glass with the rest of them.

**A/N: I think you know as well as I do that this isn't going to stop at 'one family' :p even if our newly formed Order doesn't. Comments very welcome as always! Hopefully I won't be so long getting the next chapter out. Also I added a Prologue which is a teaser for all of y'all and I'm fairly pleased with as a sort of mini update so any regulars should feel free to check it out before chapter 1. **


	14. Going Underground

**Chapter Thirteen- Going Underground** **May 1997 Part I**

This time, they chose not to drive to Tal y Cafn. Verity could see the benefits of apparition over a long car journey and since Justine insisted she was proficient in side along apparition there seemed no need to worry about transport. With Justine's help she made it to Tal y Cafn, all of Verity's limbs still intact even if, judging by the light bleeding on her arms, she'd left a couple of scabs in London.

They apparated into the beer garden of Jan's pub. Head still spinning a little Verity had found herself squashed between something plastic and something soft and Justine shaped.

"Well this is cosy," she mumbled into the jacket of Justine's coat while both of the girls struggled against each other.

"This isn't it is it?" came the muffled response.

"What are you talking about? It's perfect… you could hide at least twelve people in here."

Hearing the usual faint pop of apparating magnified, both of the girls squealed as something heavy fell on them, the shabby toe of Earnest's boot now poking into Verity's eye.

"Jesus Chr-"

"Oi," Bryn's head poked through a gap in the plastic and grinned. "Stop messing around in there." She realised then that all three of them had somehow managed to apparate directly inside of the old kid's play set at the bottom of the pub garden.

Untangling limbs, Verity managed to pull herself out of the window, the thing more than a little tight around that paunch in her middle. Now out in the garden, she saw Bryn grinning and Simon fighting the urge to laugh. Justine opted for the slide while Earnest struggled to retain at least a little dignity while springing from the top of the play set which was shaped like a the turrets of a garish plastic castle.

"I don't think anyone is taking this as seriously as we should be," he announced addressing them as though he were the king of the castle. In between snickers, Justine clearly remembered her aunt and Verity remembered what they were undertaking. They needed to grow up now, and grow up fast.

Since he'd been doing the repairs, Hannah had given the keys to Bryn after he'd been there the first time and as he pulled them out of his jeans the familiar door appeared in the wall opened to reveal the short walk to The Sett.

Verity was relieved to see that the swirling mist around the small Welsh village was not as thick as it had been the first. All the same, there was a creeping sense of trepidation and fear that could have been attributed to dementors- or was perhaps her own consciousness since Justine and Bryn seemed totally unbothered and feverish with determination.

Once inside, Justine and Earnest who had never seen The Sett before swept a critical eye over the torn wall paper and thick dusty bare floor boards. "And this will be safe?" asked Justine. Verity had to admit that the house didn't even look structurally safe, let alone safe from attack.

"I thought we'd set up a parameter outside. Anti apparition and anti jinx that sort of thing- it'll be harder to get to but that would be the point," said Simon. Verity always privately thought he could get very sexy when he acted competent. "You've done that sort of thing before right Bryn?"

"Yup, funnily enough people when people want houses built they don't want random guests apparating in the middle of their living room. But can you get started on that? I have some portal stuff to sort out."

"What portal stuff….you said it was fixed?" asked Justine.

"It is, it is…for the most part…but I uh…I need Verity for something."

"What on earth do you need _Verity _for?" it was Earnest's turn to look deeply scandalised while Verity pretended to be more offended than she was. Honestly, she was thinking the same thing- of everyone assembled she was definitely the crappest at magic.

"Yes but the nature of the portal means there's some runes you gotta read, isn't that right Vez?" Verity nodded. "My pronunciation is crap and she's the only one of us with a NEWT in ancient runes so that's why on earth I need her." Again Verity was very proud for her choice in NEWTs.

"Right, well what do you need us to do?"

"Tine would you help Simon? You were always a neat little charm student- I remember your cheering charms, best I ever saw," smiled Bryn at Justine who nodded and took her wand from her pocket.

"What about me?" demanded Earnest.

"Oh," Bryn looked at him dismissively. "I dunno, you can…tidy up or something. Try and sweep some of the crap off the floor."

* * *

Once inside the kitchen, Bryn pulled the carpeting aside to reveal Vester's secret hatch and Verity read the runic inscription easily. Again the blue light filtered through and she was disappointed that there was still only darkness. As though reading her mind Bryn reached forward and muttered 'Lumos', an orb of light streaming from his wand and into the darkness below.

The smell of earth and mould was thick and below she could see crude steps into earth and mud.

"You never found out where this led to did you?" asked Bryn and Verity shook her head.

"I always assumed it would just be another house in Eastern Europe like you said it would be."

"I didn't know Eastern Europe was this dark… and muddy," she said venturing out against her better judgement to touch the stone step. Thankfully the bones in her hand didn't explode. It was dry and a thin layer of dirt came off in her hand. "I guess we should go down there and have a look."

"I guess," said Bryn reluctantly. But Verity edged forward. On the scale of recklessness what they were already undertaking to do was a big jump so what was another leap into the abyss. Quite literally. Both of them descended, letting the light from their wands guide their way onto the stone steps.

There were fifteen steps in total and when they reached the bottom Verity found herself in what could only have been an underground cave, like a burrow or a badger sett carved into the earth. It was hollow and deserted, the narrow walls and low roof made from stone but reinforced with wooden pylons like a mine shaft.

Waving her wand around, she spotted a couple of crates and the entrance to a dark tunnel that stretched onwards. Bryn put his hand to one of the pylons and pressed his vast weight against it. He declared it probably structurally sound. The 'probably' didn't exactly fill her with confidence.

"We're going to go through this tunnel aren't we?" she asked him and he pulled a clear 'do we have to?' face but nodded.

What she noticed first were large cobwebs on the other side of the pylon through the tunnel, when she tried to brush them aside she found they were remarkably thick and sticky. No doubt this underground passage was just crawling with insects and rats and other vile things. She hoped they hadn't wandered into the underground home of a troll or something. While Verity busied herself with thoughts of creepy crawlies, Bryn spotted the torches that had been driven into the tunnel walls and lit one, filling the start of the tunnel with an ethereal blue glow.

Moisture from the walls glistened while a few stalactites hung from the tunnel ceilings and they walked a little way forward, stopping to light the torches that they found.

"Vester must have been using an underground cave system to transport people," said Verity, thinking aloud. "God only knows where the tunnels lead to." The ceiling of the tunnel began to get smaller, the air got a lot chillier. For the next few steps they had to duck their heads. Feeling something scuttle past her ankle Verity let out a shriek as she cast her light onto a spider the size of her fist crawling by her.

"Reducto," she shouted, more out of instinct than anything and at once the spider exploded into a horrible sticky mess.

"Jeez Vez, that's a little excessive isn't it?"

"Spiders are icky," she shrugged.

"Just don't go blowing up any poor defenceless rats or anything you blooming psychopath." Verity told him she couldn't promise anything.

Further on by the wall of the cave they found a huddled blanket and Bryn reached out to grab it. For a wild, fearful moment Verity had been expecting a skeleton to be lurking underneath but there was nothing like that. Just an old doll, presumably belonging to a child. This in itself to Verity was beyond creepy anyway, it's dress caked in mud, the hair tangled and it's porcelain face half shattered.

A little way on, the tunnel turned a corner and Verity realised that it had become a rudimentary corridor; there were doorways carved into the rock. She stepped through the first one and gasped.

"Merlin's saggy scrotum!"

Here was another cave, roughly the same size and shape as the one at the foot of the stone staircase leading from the basement portal but it appeared as though someone had tried to give this place a homely quality. The floor was covered in woven matting, and rugs, there were tattered armchairs and even some old newspapers strewn across them. In a way it reminded Verity of a shabby version of the Hufflepuff common room. In the corner two three crates had been arranged into a sort of table like set up and there was a chessboard all laid out on one of them, a game still half played.

She picked up a paper, browned with time and saw it was written in a language that looked Slavic dating from 1944- right around the time Grindlewald would have been at large.

"No way," Bryn echoed as she held up the paper for him to peruse. "You don't think…people were living down here?"

"How desperate must things have been for people to willingly live in caves? And why didn't Vester just let them go through the portal and into England?"

Bryn frowned, "I think the portal must be newer than the caves. They must have been hiding down here a long time before Vester could make it work."

"Until 1944 I guess," murmured Verity. "I'm going to look at the other rooms."

The other caves only served to reinforce the idea that people had been living in the caves, for it made up a secret underground house. Next to the common room cave, Verity found what must have been a bedroom judging by the mattresses spread out on the floor and then another beside it. Verity to wondered just how many people had taken to these caves to hide from Grindlewald. There was even a kitchen complete with a stove, a large dining table in the middle of it and a big wooden pantry.

Running her fingers along the edges of the wooden table, she found that someone had gotten bored and carved words into it, all in the same Slavic language as well as a few crude pictures, a stick figure on a broom, a smiling face and a galaxy of stars. She then became aware of a rustling in the pantry.

Rats. Verity shuddered. It would probably be worthwhile to see just how many rats they were up against since it would be an idea to clean this place up should the worst come to the worst. Bracing herself she opened the door.

And backed away as quick as she dared, mouth open and her heart beating. There in the pantry, Verity didn't know how or why was something that sent a cold sweat through her body.

Trembling, she raised her wand and roared 'expelliarmus' the way she had practised with Hannah. And then 'reducto' over and over.

Cloaked in darkness wearing a thick black hood, slits cut for the eyes like a sinister snake, the Death Eater stepped towards her, wand raised. Her spells were useless, bouncing off the Death Eater, misfiring and exploding a fifty year old box of cereal in the pantry behind it. Cornflakes spilled onto the floor and Verity was glued to the spot, could do nothing but whimper.

And then Bryn was behind her, "It's a boggart, Verity! Verity it's fine," he yelled anguished but Verity could only blink. It was a Death Eater, clear as day and they were going to die. She found herself being pushed aside as Bryn stepped forwards to face it.

With a crack, the Death Eater changed into something completely different. In the place of the figure in its ominous white mask was a woman in a white dress. To Verity there was nothing scary about it at all, it was just Justine. She held a bouquet of white flowers in her arms and a veil above her head. From the ether Earnest appeared wearing dress robes. He lifted the veil as Justine turned to look at him and they kissed.

Verity hardly seemed to have time to process what she was seeing before the Boggart Earnest suddenly lost all of his hair. "Riddikulous," said Bryn with a flicker of his wand and the Boggart vanished in a puff of smoke.

"You okay?" he asked Verity.

Was she okay? Verity looked down at her hands, which were still shaking and tried to steady her breathing. She was not okay at all…pulled at a chair around the table and sat on it heavily. Bryn sidled up to her and put a hand on her shoulder.

She could still taste her own fear, and felt a fresh wave of grief for her mother, trying to shake off the tears which pricked her eyes. Tears for her Mum and also tears of frustration, at how quickly she had fallen to pieces when faced with the real thing. How exactly would she ever be able to defend herself from Death Eaters if she seized up like that? Maybe Simon had been right not to want to get dragged into all of this.

But she looked up at Bryn who hardly seemed to look much better than she felt as she began to process that what she'd just seen was Bryn's _biggest_ fear.

"We should go back," said Bryn gruffly. "I doubt we'll get through the whole system tonight. God knows where the other exit is. I'd put money on the fact that its miles and miles away- it doesn't seem like your Aunt cut any corners."

Verity nodded, shaken enough that she could definitely see the benefits of a hot cup of tea. Silently they made their way back through the tunnel system. Not one of them spoke for a good while, until Verity, stopped him by holding his arm and started,

"Do you wanna talk about-"

"Not really no," said Bryn putting all his attention on the light at the end of his wand, trying to make his voice seem light and airy but instead simply coming across as bitter. Verity wondered how long he had felt the way he did, felt her heart ache for her friend .

"You know, if you're so afraid of that happening you could just…"

"I could just tell her that I'm in love with her?" asked Bryn dryly. "I'm pretty sure I've gotten drunk and told her twice a year, every year since we were fifteen. Believe me she knows…and it doesn't make a lick of difference."

_Since they were fifteen_- how had she not even guessed? How had she not seen any signs before today? "I never knew…neither of you ever told me,"

"I imagine she didn't tell you because she just wants all of us to stay friends and she knows I feel like an idiot about the whole bloody mess," said Bryn and he gave a bitter little chuckle. "I barely knew that'd be my boggart either, honestly Vez…You'd think I didn't know there was a war on or something."

"Yeah," she replied weakly, thinking of the Death Eaters again.

"Hey, Vez?"

"Mmm?"

"You know, back there? You've got the right idea, honestly. So don't beat yourself up about it- fear is what we need even though we might seem confident. Fear is going to keep us on our toes. Stop us making dumb mistakes. We'll be fine. I promise."

Verity wasn't sure Bryn should be going around making promises he didn't know he could keep.

The trap door had shut behind them, but it had not locked and was pushed easily open. Verity and Bryn blinked at the natural light and Simon was waiting at the top of the stairs with his hand out. Verity clutched it tight and stepped into his arms.

"It works then? What was down there?" Simon asked her.

* * *

To their captive audience, Bryn and Verity relayed the story of the underground cave system and the home that Muggleborn refugees had made underground before Bryn finished, by way of explaining the way Verity clung to Simon, with "and then we had a bit of a run in with a boggart, but we got it. Might be something to watch out for though, the conditions are pretty much perfect for the damn things down there."

Weaving his arms around her body and holding her close, Simon asked Verity what she had seen and Verity shot Bryn a warning look that clearly said 'I won't tell them yours if you don't tell them mine'. The way she saw it, they probably didn't need to be reminded of Death Eaters.

"You were making out with my dad, it was horrifying."

Pulling a face Simon pulled away, "You're a sick, sick woman Verity Abbott."

"How did the charms come along?" asked Bryn to Justine and Verity found herself watching the way they were around each other a little more closely. She found nothing out of the ordinary, no subtle clues at all.

"Pretty much all done," said Simon. "We made it so no one could apparate within a two mile radius of the place and fired our best hexes at the house. They bounce right off," Simon raised his hand and Justine high fived him.

"So we're all ready for tonight then?"

"Ready as we'll ever be," said Justine. "Though I did neglect to tell my Aunty she and her husband would have to live in a cave."

"The cave is just a back up Tine. In case Death Eaters do come…even then, I bet we'll find the exit before then."

"Germany is just as bad as a cave," shrugged Justine, "I guess there is nothing we can do until tonight now"

"Except walk two bloody miles so we can apparate out of here," said Earnest.

"Everyone knows the plan, everyone knows what they are doing?" said Simon and they all nodded, as the weight of what they were undertaking finally began to sink in. Verity grabbed Simon by the arm.

"Actually…if it's all the same with everyone else, I think there's someone else that would like to know about all of this and I can vouch for them." She fished into her pocket for whatever change she had left and said to Simon, "Do you think you could help me with something else before it all goes down tonight?"


End file.
